

* •« ► • • • • 

• ' k * * > * 



J * 

‘9 ,‘^v •‘♦v 










• . ■ 






• * » % « « 






* // * .« *-.» # *■ 

:->VV.*V 4 *♦. *'. «* 

» ^ # • ‘ ? ^ ^ ^ l. t - . « « 4 • I# • » ’ - ’•*•'4*." " • . ^ . 

" 

*.v r. „y, c '»*•»>* .•*' •. ,v ^.v.".vy. *> £«.* -'• >.\ V. * 

• 5 »*'vl- /‘S' .-.«v .-V, < M / v,%y \».y ,- 7 . ' ‘v V.% • 

4 >:« • •» • <w<\ lyj£ v \ • - 




',<7 /:// 

-K. 7 /, //• -■' . 
/ •' / ■' 





CANNOT LEAVE THE LIBRARY. 


Chap 

FZ3 

Shelf 


! 




u library of congress 

9—165 


‘ ! 




COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 








































I 
















































































































■ 













































































































■\ f 








WON 

BY 

A 

WOMAN 

























































\ 



























































:> 


Won by a Woman 


[La Maestrina degli Operai] 


A Story from Life 



EDMONDO DE AMICIS 


Author of 

The Heart of a Boy. 


From the Italian by Prof. G. Mantellini 


CHICAGO 

Laird & Lee, Publishers 



TWO COPIES RECEIVED 


?z 3 

A s-/&w 



Copyrighted, 1897, by 
Wm. H. Lee. 


• q >oS] 




CHAPTER I 


5URIN schools are all 
pleasing in appearance; 
but the one situated in 
the suburb of Sant’ 
Antonio is the most 
charming of all. This 
suburb, which is sep- 
arated by about one mile 
from the gates of the city, is 
inhabited chiefly by peasants 
and the workingmen of the two 
large iron mills and the sulphuric acid 
factories. The noise from these busy hives of 
industry disturbs the quiet of the village, and 
the smoke pouring from their great chimneys 





9 



WON BY A WOMAN. 

i 

enshrouds it in clouds of dense bl^ck. The 
entire suburb consists of one main street, bordered 
on either side by queer little houses and gardens; 
and leading from this street out into the open 
fields is a broad lane. The school house is at 
the end of this lane and near it stands a solitary 
church. 

It is a small, attractive building, two stories 
high; the first floor consists of five large rooms, 
for the use of the five elementary classes, and of 
two narrow rooms used by the janitor and his 
wife. On the second floor are the living apart- 
ments, each consisting of a little bedrbom and 
a kitchen. These apartments are occupied 
only by the four teachers and the principal’s 
family. 

Back of the school building, enclosed by a 
wall, are five garden plots which belong to the 
teachers. The janitor acts as gardener and 
receives the vegetables he raises as compensation 


10 


} 


WON BY A WOMAN. 

for his labor. But the strawberries and flowers 
are distributed among the occupants of the 
second floor. 

This little colony of teachers, visited only at 
rare intervals by the superintendent of the schools 
of Turin, reside here as quietly and independ- 
ently as they would in any country farmhouse. 
Only one thing blights the perfect harmony of 
this rural life — the long cold months of the foggy 
winter. During this season of the year, solitude 
and loneliness fill one’s soul with longing and 
depression. 

It was on one of those gray, raw, wintry 
days toward the end of November, that Sig- 
norina Enrica Varetti, the young teacher, stood 
at the window of her little room and gazed 
gloomily over the roofs of the suburb. The 
murky smoke belched from the high factory 
chimneys, floating over the desolate snow-covered 
plain; and the fog hid from view the far dis- 
1 1 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


tant Alps, at the uttermost limits of this level 
stretch of land. The gloom of the season, the 
dreariness of the place, augmented Signorina 
Varetti’s sadness of heart. To-night she was 
to begin the instruction of the evening class of 
adults — a disagreeable duty which had just been 
assigned to her by the Board of Directors of the 
Turin schools. 

Enrica Varetti’s predecessor, who was the 
wife of Signor Garollo the principal, had been 
forced to resign the position on account of a 
serious trouble with her eyesight. Signorina 
Varetti would not have felt so uneasy had she 
been assigned the teaching of the evening class 
of any other village; but the very thought of the 
people of Sant’ Antonio, with whom she must 
now associate daily, troubled her seriously. 

They were mostly farm hands and peasants 
whose morals had been vitiated by frequent visits 
to the neighboring city, whither they went 


12 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


every Sunday for every low kind of dissipation. 
Every holiday brought a crowd of rowdies over 
to Sant’ Antonio to spend their day of leisure in 
gambling and drinking at the various saloons, 
which had tripled in number since the completion 
ot the street car line from the city. 

Enrica Varetti pondered over these things 
and she grew heartsick with fear of the working- 
men from the mills and factories; for she knew 
how difficult to control their coarse manners 
and riotous living would make them. The rude 
ways of the young boys, between the ages of 
ten and sixteen, made her apprehension still 
greater; she had often watched them as they 
came from their work at the factory, and she had 
shuddered to see them fight and to hear them 
use vile and blasphemous language. She had 
been informed, too, that these boys were even 
more corrupt and vicious than the men. 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


However, this uneasiness was largely the 
result of a peculiar disposition and of the secluded 
life that she had led up to the present time. 
Signorina Varetti’s father,who belonged to an old 
family of the nobility, was a major in the Italian 
infantry and had fallen at the battle of Custoza, 
thus leaving her an orphan. Naturally timid, 
refined and impressionable she had led a quiet, 
restrained life in a strict provincial boarding- 
school, where she remained for her education 
until her eighteenth birthday. 

In early childhood she had once witnessed, 
from the window of her home, a bloody stabbing 
affray between two miners, and this had left so 
strong an impression that she could never over- 
come her prejudice against common laborers. 
From that time she fancied that the lower classes 
lived in constant opposition to social laws and, 
consequently, she imagined them far more de- 
praved than they are in reality. She believed 

H 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


also, that the penitentiaries and jails received 
from this element their largest percentage of in- 
mates. 

She would picture in her imagination a vast, 
dark, subterranean structure frequented by the 
most degraded and lowest rabble of both sexes; 
from there she would see streams of blood and 
wine flow out together, knife blades gleam and 
flash, and she would see the occupants attack 
and slay each other and hear them sing the 
obscene verses of filthy songs. 

All this preyed upon her mind, and haunted 
her like a horrible nightmare from which she was 
unable to free herself for any length of time. If 
a person resembling one of this class passed her 
on the street, a shudder ran through her whole 
frame. She was frightened by their slang and 
bad language. If she happened to hear a 
quarrelsome discussion, she would grow deadly 
pale and feel her strength desert her, and she 

15 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


would return home trembling from head to foot; 
nevertheless, she possessed for these people an 
ungovernable curiosity and she was forced, 
against her own will, to watch them whenever 
she could do so without being noticed. If she 
chanced to overhear them upon the streets, she 
would meditate upon their strange words and 
expressions, for she considered these things the 
manifestations of their very souls. In news- 
papers devoted to an account of their actions, 
she would trace out the important events that 
marked their lives. 

Again and again she tried to overcome this mor- 
bid aversion, for she was naturally kind and im- 
bued with religious feelings, and she told herself 
that such an aversion toward the lower classes was 
narrow, unchristianlike, and based on ignorance. 
Social injustice, misery, bad examples and super- 
stition were no doubt the causes which led these 
people to crime. 


16 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


When alone, wrapped in silent meditation, 
she felt herself grow angry at the injustice which 
society had done these people. After all, she 
told herself, they were but the results of present 
social inequalities; and she began to feel a deep 
love and a keen sympathy for those whom, but 
a few minutes before, she had looked upon with 
disgust and fear. She began to love them with 
a Christian love, and she pictured herself organ- 
izing bands of philanthropic women who should 
devote their lives to the redemption of these un- 
fortunates. Yes, she would devote her existence 
to this noble work; she would penetrate into their 
dens and haunts, into the heart of the slums, to 
make their hard lives more tender and to open 
the darkness of their homes to mercy and charity. 

It seemed to her that she must be successful 
in such a noble work, and her excited imagination 
would generally leave her weeping tears of 
17 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


sympathy; for she deemed herself, as by a miracle, 
armed with sufficient strength to undertake such 
a task at the very first opportunity. 

But hardly an hour after taking such a reso- 
lution, she would pass one of the factories at a 
time when this ill-kempt noisy flood of human- 
ity was pouring from its doors, and the same old 
dread would overcome her and she found 
every attempt at resistance to be in vain. 

On Sunday nights gazing out of her window 
the young teacher could perceive the red lantern 
and the illuminated doorway of “The Inn of 
Gallina,” which stood at the lower end of the 
avenue. When hoarse and threatening voices 
announced the approach of a fight, her fancy 
would run riot, and picture the brandishing of 
knives and the falling of a lifeless body across 
the road. Then she would become weak and 
faint, and feel cold chills run through her body; 

1 8 


f 

l 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


it was often with difficulty that she mustered 
strength enough to close the window shutters. 

Finally, she persuaded herself that she was 
powerless, that she could not overcome her 
strong dislike for such depraved people; and she 
tried to fortify her soul by establishing intimate 
friendships with the younger pupils of the second 
class. She feared that many of them would, 
when grown to a maturer age, become just as 
depraved and wicked as their elders — those 
drunken, quarrelsome, ferocious fellows; absorbed 
in this thought, she would watch them closely 
and try to discover the germs of those brutal in- 
stincts and passions that would sway the actions 
of their manhood. 

Her study proved of no avail. The greater 
number of her pupils were so apathetic that they 
would not even brush the flies off their noses 
and eyes, and so far as penetrating into their 
hearts was concerned — after a year’s hard work 
*9 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


at Sant’ Antonio she had not even succeeded in 
moving one boy to tears. The result of it all 
was, that her horror for “the other half” re- 
mained as terrible and ineradicable as at first. 


x 


20 



( 


II 



IGNORINA Varetti 
was aroused from 
her deep reverie by 
a caller whom she did not 
expect at this late hour. It 
was the Signora Mazzara, 
a school mistress, who had 
just arrived from Turin on 
Once every month — generally 
on Thursday afternoons — she made a point of 
calling on her suburban friend, as she called 
Enrica. The Signora was a thin, tall woman, 
all bone and muscle, with a complexion that 
resembled somewhat the color of ham; and she 
was the possessor of two beautiful, inquisitive, 
gray eyes that seemed to fairly scintillate over 


the tram-car. 


21 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


her pug nose. There came pouring from her 
mouth such an inexhaustible stream of words, 
flowing with such a wonderful rapidity, that one 
feared she would choke. 

After kissing her friend, she gave a detailed 
account of everything she had done during that 
day. She had been everywhere. She had 
arisen at seven and called on a French lady 
friend, a teacher in the school of the Sacre Coeur , 
to make inquiries concerning another friend who 
was a teacher at the Facini Institute. She had 
also taken a trip to the “Oratorio” on Cotto- 
lengo street, for the purpose of recommending a 
a child to Don Bosco. Then she had carried 
the manuscript of another friend to the office of 
the “Teachers’ Union,” and attended to some 
personal affairs at the office of the “Choral 
Society,” of which she was a member. “ After 
all this,” concluded she, “I have come to see 
my friend Enrica.” 


22 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


As she drew closer to her friend, that she 
might kiss her. Signora Mazzara noticed the ex- 
pression of sadness on the young girl’s counten- 
ance. “What is the matter? What has hap- 
pened?” she asked in surprise. 

Signorina Varetti beckoned her to a seat near 
the window, and then began to tell of her dread 
of the pupils of the evening school. 

“Is that all?” exclaimed her friend quickly, 
with a smile. “Oh, my poor child! You 
should rest contented with your lot when you 
consider that the position pays eighty lires more 
than you are receiving now. You let your 
imagination run away with you. I assure you 
that you will be very well pleased with the work. 
You must not condemn these people- because 
their habits and manner of living, of which you 
are still ignorant, do not coincide with your 
own. On further acquaintance, I know that 
you will discover a number of good qualities in 
2 3 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


them, of which you have no idea as yet. I am 
somewhat of a socialist myself, as you well 
know.” 

And, in fact, she was a socialist — she was a 
little of everything. A religious woman with 
those piously inclined, a democrat with those 
who believed in democracy, an aristocrat with 
the aristocracy; a great worker for woman’s 
rights, with those who held such ideas; in short. 
Signora Mazzara had the faculty of adapting 
herself to all conditions and people. She knew 
half the inhabitants of Turin; she visited many 
homes; she dined wherever she taught; she 
knew members of parliament, priests, officials, 
journalists, and people in needy circumstances 
for whom she sought employment. Her boast 
was that she had friends who were connected 
with all the highest institutions of learning and 
that she was on confidential terms with five or 
six principals of young ladies’ seminaries. She 
24 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


wrote flattering letters to famous people, in order 
that she might secure their autographs; she 
attended the funeral services of persons of a high 
rank, pushing her way even among the relatives 
of the dead, that she might be taken for an inti- 
mate friend of the family. She made a business 
of introducing people of the literary and edu- 
cational world to each other. She was always 
ready to do anyone a favor, and she claimed to 
know everything and everybody. The only 
thing she did not make a pretense of knowing 
was the art of writing, and she seldom, if ever, 
discussed literature, for which she cared but little. 
She was born for a life of activity, and had 
absolutely no ambition to shine in letters. Her 
aim in life was to become the principal of a 
municipal school. 

However, poor Signorina Varetti did not 
feel at all reassured by the consolation which her 
friend’poured forth in a continuous flow of words. 

25 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


She knew but too well, that a mistress of this 
very school of Sant* Andrea had just undergone 
a severe experience with the pupils of the even- 
ing class. Some of them carried their improper 
conduct to the extent of drawing obscene 
pictures on the blackboard, and this had caused 
such an uproarious merriment in the class that 
the poor instructor had been obliged to send for 
her father and have him present during the les- 
sons. Another young lady teacher had found 
under the inkstand, an indecent letter addressed 
to her, and she had been almost frightened into 
a fever by the discovery of a live mouse in one 
of the drawers of her desk, placed there by a 
pupil. To cap the climax, the mistress of an- 
other suburban school, having reported some of 
the adult pupils to the authorities for misconduct, 
was attacked one night by these ruffians at a 
place where they knew she must pass, and 
thrown into a ditch. 


26 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Signora Mazzara merely shrugged her shoul- 
ders after listening to these tales of woe and said: 
“All these stories are merely the product of a 
vivid imagination; young school-mistresses turn 
trifles into tragedies. Believe me,” she con- 
tinued, “workingmen are good fellows, whom 
you can handle with ease, if you approach them 
in the right way. Those who abuse them the 
most, understand them the least. But of the 
women of the same class — well, that is another 
matter.” 

In order to comfort her friend. Signora 
Mazzara related some of her own experience 
while teaching at the Sunday-school of Norberto 
Rosa. “Fancy yourself,” she said, “in charge 
of fifty ill-bred, noisy girls and women of all 
descriptions, ranging in age from ten to fifty — 
dressmakers, servants, waitresses, office girls; all 
as incorrigible and malicious as it is possible to 
be. They entered the school room boisterously, 
27 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


pulling and dragging each other; sometimes 
going so far as to strike each other, in their 
struggle to gain the seats nearest the windows. 
They were anxious to get the window seats, 
you know, in order that they might watch their 
sweethearts, who lounged about the corners in 
wait for them. And then, how conceited they 
were! The older ones would not even let me 
correct their compositions before the class, and 
when I reproved them, they would answer me 
back impertinently. The younger ones laughed 
and grinned at every attempt I made to improve 
their ways. One would insist upon devoting all 
her time to the learning of book-keeping; another 
cared only about the learning of letter-writing, 
that she might know how to compose love 
epistles; another one wished to be dismissed be- 
fore the class was over, claiming that she was 
needed in the kitchen; still another one would 
fall asleep, having spent the previous night in 
28 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


sewing, or heaven knows at what! Believe 
me, Enrica, you are fortunate in having a class 
of men.” 

While her friend had been speaking, Signorina 
Varetti noticed that she was attired in a beauti- 
ful, gray woolen dress, which she had never 
seen on the lady before. She expressed her 
admiration for the garment, although it fitted in- 
differently, and asked the price of it. The 
question seemed to embarrass Signora Mazzara; 
she blushed and answered quickly: t( Oh, it is 
only an old gown.” Despite this declaration, 
a disagreeable suspicion crossed Enrica Varetti’s 
mind; for she knew that this dress, as well as 
another that she had seen on her friend, last 
summer, was the cast-off garment of one of those 
handsome women who make their fortunes with- 
out a marriage certificate, and who had been 
taking writing lessons from the Signora, in order 
that she might appear to advantage in the gay 
world. 


29 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Signora Mazzara, resuming her conversation 
continued: “ You ought to see those horrid girls! 
As soon as the bell rings, they run out helter- 
skelter and falling over each other; it is a miracle 
they are not hurt more often. When they 
reach the street, they chase each other about 
and throw snowballs like rowdies. Their be- 
havior is simply scandalous, and to make mat- 
ters worse, a rough crowd of men congregate 
about the entrance of the school. If what the 
girls say is true, these men are their brothers or 
their cousins; so they pair off, each one with a 
so-called brother or cousin, and they go away 
arm-in-arm, without much pretense of formality; 
and this, right before the principal’s eyes! 

tc Among these women there is a servant 
girl, a regular sneak, who has caused so much 
trouble that I believe we shall be obliged to turn 
her out of school. You never saw such an 
impudent hussy. She, too, like all the others, 
30 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


has a male cousin. You ought to see what a 
fine fellow he is! He comes all the distance 
from this side of Turin to wait for her. He is 
a tough, a desperado; he would stab a man to 
the heart at the first word. He makes love to 
the servant girl, but at the same time he is 
jealous of the amours of the other fellows. He 
would like to have all the girls to himself. He 
has already had quarrels with all the men, and 
they are deadly afraid of him, for he has spent 
a year in the penitentiary for his part in a stab- 
bing affray. You ought to see his face! Why, 
his eyes alone are enough to make one shiver. 
And this shameless woman is proud of this 
fellow — can you understand it? She lords it 
over her companions, boasts of the superiority of 
her conquest, and threatens to have their brothers 
and lovers stabbed for the slightest offense. 
Only last Saturday, he and another man came to 
blows over some trivial dispute, and the police 

3 1 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


had to be called to stop them. Some day or 
other he will get killed. But he is a fine look- 
ing fellow, nevertheless. Last year he went to 
the Turin Arena to take part in a slugging match, 
and he succeeded in downing everyone who 
took part in the affair. He is not very tall, but 
has a fine physique, is strong and quick; and has 
beautiful black hair, which he combs down on 
his forehead. When he stands on the street 
corner during class hours, there are always a 
dozen girls who want to sit near the windows, 
and it is impossible to make them pay attention 
to their lessons and keep order. I can’t under- 
stand it — such a sweetheart would scare me to 
death.” 

As she passed this last remark, she laughed 
and her hilarity displeased Enrica, for her friend’s 
words and actions were obviously at variance. 
Nevertheless, she might have expected as much, 
for Signora Mazzara was the daughter of a 
32 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


cooper, himself a pretty bad sort of an individual, 
and she had been brought up among three rough 
brothers, who associated with the commonest 
rabble of Turin and had been jailed several 
times for disorderly conduct. Signora Mazzara 
had risen above her family only by dint of hard 
study and by a kind of instinct that led her to 
associate with better people; nevertheless, she 
still retained an undefined sympathy for her 
early life and associates. Although she did not 
express herself openly on this subject, her feel* 
ings were easily detected by her bursts of spon- 
taneous admiration for the deeds of the lower 
class. 

All this was bound to hurt Signorina Varetti’s 
delicacy of feeling, and, in that one moment, she 
forgot their firm friendship of three years’ stand- 
ing, and also a great favor which Signora Maz- 
zara had rendered her. She rose from her 
chair, as if ready to leave the room, for she had 


33 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


grown impatient at listening to such empty 
chatter. 

“Is it your intention to go out this even- 
ing?” asked the Signora. She replied in the 
affirmative, saying that she intended going to 
“Benediction,” as was her wont every day. 
On hearing this. Signora Mazzara’s bearing 
changed instantly, and she said, in the pious 
manner of a devout soul: “You are quite right, 
my child; I, too, feel the need of going to church 
once a day, and lifting my thoughts to God. I 
feel so much the better after it.” 

Then she informed Enrica that it was high 
time for her to start on her way back to Turin. 
She had to visit a lady friend, a relative of a 
school mistress who had been a governess in the 
house of Prince Carignano; she had to take a 
message to the curate of the “ Consolato 
Church,” and she had numerous other duties to 
perform. Then, grasping Sigporina Varetti’s 


34 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


chin between her thumb and index finger, she 
said: “ Go to the evening school in good 

spirits, my child; you will find your class com- 
posed of warm-hearted people, rough in appear- 
ance, but honest and respectful at bottom. 
Only be careful not to treat them haughtily, but 
as if you were one of them; and you will see, 
then, that they will adore you inside of a month.” 

Signorina Varetti shook her head, despond- 
ently replying that her presentiments were any- 
thing but cheerful. 

“ Stuff and nonsense!” answered the other; 
“ these people, like Satan, are not as black as 
they are painted.” Then she proceeded to 
advise her friend as to the best method of com- 
mencing her work, and suggested that she had 
better have the janitor present during the first 
few evenings. 

Enrica smiled at the suggestion, for the 
janitor was a poor old man who pretended to be 
35 


WON BY A WOMAN, 


very brave, but, in truth, was the very soul of 
cowardice. He never was to be found when 
any disturbance arose; it seemed as if he disap- 
peared, like a phantom, through the walls. 

“Well,” concluded Signora Mazzara, 
“ everything will turn out for the best, I am 
sure; and I know that you will be fully satisfied 
after a while.” 

The young girl escorted her friend as far as 
the avenue; and all the way the Signora talked 
more rapidly than ever. She had still gossip 
galore to retail about ten other friends. At the 
door of the courtyard they met a young man, 
pipe in mouth, who wore a soft felt hat. He 
gazed fixedly at both women, and then stepped 
aside, in order to let them pass. He then 
entered the school house, but turned back as he 
did so, to stare at Signorina Varetti once more. 

“It is he!” exclaimed the elder lady hur- 
riedly. 


3 6 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“And who is he?” asked her friend, much 
disturbed. 

“He? He’s the young fellow of whom I 
have just been talking to you; the one who comes 
every Sunday to wait for that girl, his cousin. 
I didn’t know he lived in Sant’ Antonio. Why, 
you must know him.” 

Enrica Varetti murmured that she had 
nevei noticed him. 

“ He will be a pupil in your evening class,” 
remarked Signora Mazzara. 

But Signorina Varetti assured her that he 
had not enrolled as yet. 

“ Then,” said her friend, “he has certainly 
come to be registered, for he would not have 
entered the school for anything else.” 

The young teacher grew deadly pale. Fail- 
ing to notice her emotion Signora Mazzara kissed 
her, cried, “Good-by, Enrica!” and hurried 
away through the snow. 


37 


Ill 



NRICA Varetti re-entered the 
house with a fluttering heart. Had 
the man really come to register in her 
class? and why had he waited until 
) she was given charge of the evening 
« pupils? She decided to go at once to 
the principal. Signor Garollo, and find out the 
truth of the matter. She feared, however, if 
she did this, that he would accuse her of faint- 
heartedness. Her fears were confirmed a minute 
later by seeing, from her window, this young 
man and the principal talking together; the 
38 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


principal was bidding him good-by with a wave 
of his hand, his fingers spread apart, as if he 
were saying, “At eight o’clock.” She recog- 
nized the fellow at once, for his name was in 
everybody’s mouth. He was called Muroni, 
nicknamed “Saltafinestra,” (window-jumper), 
because when still a boy, he had jumped out of 
a high window, in order to escape the wrath of 
his infuriated father who would have killed him 
had he been able to catch him. It was a terrific 
jump and when he arose from the pavement of 
the street below, he found that he had broken 
his leg. His father had been a laborer in one 
of the Sant' Antonio mills and he died from the 
result of a blow he received from a transmission 
belt, as he lay in a drunken stupor near the 
machinery. 

For a period of ten years previous to his 
death, the elder Muroni had subjected his wife 
and family to a life of misery. His poor wife. 


39 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


who worked in a tannery, was a devoted church 
member, and a good Christian. Her son was, 
by trade, a blacksmith; that is, he worked at it 
now and then, when the mood came over him. 
He spent day after day loafing in the low resorts 
of Turin, and had spent one year in jail for 
stabbing a man in a fight. He had caused the 
police no end of trouble, escaping from their 
grasp no less than ten times, and associating 
with the worst of the outcasts and toughs that 
disgraced the city. He was a gambler, a drunk- 
ard, an overbearing, ever-quarrelsome fellow, 
bereft of all sympathy or pity for his poor 
mother, from whom he would take the very last 
cent; threatening, if she refused him, to create a 
scandal in the church, by defacing the sacred 
images which she had in the house. In fact, 
when a crime or misdemeanor could not be 
fastened on anybody else, the police and the 


40 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


citizens of Sant* Antonio would invariably 
charge him with being the perpetrator. 

Signorina Varetti had always feared the 
man greatly, and her fear had changed to a 
positive horror lately; for he had made it a 
practice to stare at her in an insolent manner 
whenever he chanced to pass her on the street, 
and he would turn and gaze until she had moved 
beyond the range of his sight. He seemed to 
enjoy the terror and confusion that his insolence 
caused her to suffer. In truth, a single 
glance from his black, shining, sinister eyes 
would cause the young teacher to change color 
and become breathless with emotion. Why 
had he come to register in the evening class of 
the school? This was a question that Enrica 
Varetti could not answer to her own satisfaction, 
but it was certainly not out of any ambition to 
improve his education. The most discomfort- 
ing apprehensions flitted through her mind, 


4i 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


prompted, no doubt, by the aversion she felt for 
dealing in any manner with such a man. She 
feared, too, that she had ill concealed the loath- 
ing she entertained for him, and that he was 
coming to the evening class for the sole purpose 
of avenging himself mercilessly. Or, on the 
other hand, he might, pretending friendship and 
submission, feign a sympathy for her trouble, in 
order to attempt, in his rude way, the conquest 
of her heart. Both of these suspicions weighed 
heavily on the poor girl’s mind. 

At first, she thought it was nonsensical to 
worry and cause herself so much uneasiness, 
before she was sure that it was the man’s inten- 
tion to become a member of her class. But 
now, knowing to a certainty that he would join 
it, she felt that she had good reason for suffer- 
ing so in mind and heart. Good God! how 
would it all end? What would happen ? Tor- 
mented by such thoughts, she began to pace the 


42 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


floor of her room. She paused before a portrait 
of her father, in military uniform, and she looked 
up at it, as if to implore advice and to strengthen 
her courage by gazing on his image. Then she 
walked over to the mirror and looked on the 
reflection of herself, as if seeking aid from that, 
too. She wondered if her manner and bear- 
ing would command this burly fellow’s respect? 
Whether sternness or kindness would subdue 
him? But such thoughts brought neither com- 
fort nor solace. 

Enrica Varetti possessed the tall and slender 
figure of a gentle-born and refined girl; although 
twenty-four years of age, she did not appear to 
be more than eighteen. Her complexion was 
white as milk, and her features as delicate as 
those of a child; her mouth was small, and her 
voice weak and feeble, like that of an invalid. 
What authority could she assume, what dignity 
could she impart to her functions? Then, too. 


43 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


a very slight cast in her blue eyes gave her the 
appearance of one who lacked in determination 
and strength of character. This, as well as her 
queenly grace, her delicate complexion and her 
dignified bearing, all so vividly incongruous in 
an every-day public school teacher, would excite 
the ridicule and satire of those coarse-grained, 
ill-bred creatures. 

She stood before the mirror, her long, white 
hands carelessly brushing back her chestnut hair, 
which fell over her temples, and trying to arrive 
at a definite conclusion as to the attitude she 
would assume before her class on the next even- 
ing, in order to make the most favorable impres- 
sion. More disheartened than ever, she moved 
to the window, that she might catch a glimpse 
of the inn at the end of the avenue. Already, 
early as it was, she could discern the glare of 
the red lantern of this terrible hostelry, which so 


44 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


often had made her tremble, and had filled her 
mind with such morbid fancies. 

Two knocks which she heard on the wall, 
from another part of the room, aroused her 
from her reverie. 


45 


IV 



HE knock came from Signora 
Baroffi, another school 
teacher, who was calling 
Enrica to dinner in her room. 
For the last month they, and 
another school teacher, Sig - 
t norina Latti, had dined to- 

gether at the frugal table prepared by the 
janitor’s wife. Signorina Varetti, yearning for 
some distraction, hastened to answer the sum- 
mons in person. She found her two compan- 
ions already seated at a small round table, the 
narrow confines of which were entirely occupied 
by a soup tureen and a kerosene lamp; the 
smoke issuing from the lamp commingled with 
the savory vapor of the soup. 


46 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


To Enrica’s regret, the conversation drifted 
at once to the subject of the evening school. 
A few minutes earlier, on her way through the 
village, Signorina Latti had overheard a young 
mason say to his companion, with a sly wink: 
“Well, to-morrow we’ll have the new little 
teacher!” And Signorina Latti joked with her 
friend at what the mason had said. 

Her outburst of merriment was, let it be 
said, an exception to the rule; for Signorina 
Latti was afflicted with a chronic melancholy, 
which was not at all in keeping with her small 
plump figure and her dark gypsy-like face. She 
was mortally anxious about her health, believ- 
ing herself always suffering from some dread 
disease, the symptoms of which changed fort- 
nightly. Her room, filled with vials and medi- 
cines, resembled a drug store in miniature; and 
her pockets were stuffed with pills and powders. 
She knew by heart the contents of the book. 


47 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“ Every One His Own Doctor.” She read all 
the patent medicine advertisements in the news- 
papers, and kept up an unceasing correspond- 
ence with the doctors of the Turin clinics. 

Among the numerous other evils from which 
she suffered was a chronic cough, or rather an 
imaginary cough, and to cure this she made no 
end of experiments, trying everything with a 
desperation equaled only by that of a singer who 
attempts to recover his lost voice. She was 
fond of giving her pupils as a subject in letter 
writing: “ Consoling a Sick Friend.” Very 
often she would begin the day’s work by saying: 
“My children, this is perhaps one of the last 
lessons that your teacher will be able to give 
you.” When walking by the graveyard with 
one of her friends, she would remark with a 
sigh: “ This is the place where I shall soon be.” 
If one of her mischievous pupils greeted her in 
the morning with the words: “What is the 
48 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


matter with you, teacher, you look so pale?” 
she would become deeply disturbed and anxious, 
no matter how perfect her health might be. 
Apart from such faults, she was as good as gold, 
and far above the petty jealousy and rivalry so 
common among teachers in the same school; she 
was like a person who thinks more of the world 
to come than of the world that is. She was the 
daughter of a police officer. 

Enrica did not attempt any retort to Sig- 
norina Latti’s joke. 

Then Signora Baroffi tried to comfort her. 
“I envy you,” she said, with her thick voice, 
raising her pale, noble face, encircled by a shock 
of hair disheveled as an artist’s, and speaking as 
if she would attract the attention of somebody 
standing behind her. “You will be able to 
make a thorough study of the proletariat — a 
fine subject and one which has never been 
thoroughly investigated. How much good it 


49 


WON BY A WOMAtt. 


will lie in your power to do! How I wish I 
were in your place; I know I could accomplish 
so much. Signora Garollo did not understand 
them; she did not know how to touch their 
Hearts; she has not the gift of persuasion. A 
clever, sympathetic girl can become their master 
before the end of the fourth lesson.’ ’ 

Enrica Varetti shook her head incredulously. 
“You hold too closely to your theories,” 
retorted she. 

And this was indeed true. Despite teacher 
Baroffi’s thirty-eight years, she still believed 
in the working man of romance — such as he is 
depicted in novels — who sings the joys of 
honest poverty, and pities the lot of the rich 
man, overladen with cares. Imbued with the 
ideas of such books, she lacked all practical 
knowledge of life, and from personal observation 
she learned nothing of men or things; she was 
familiar with a vast number of stereotyped phrases 


50 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


and a mass of confused quotations gleaned from 
such books, which she would piece together, 
like a mosaic, for her ideal lectures. She was a 
monomaniac on the subject of lectures; to give 
them, she had neglected her school work and, 
on that account, had been relegated from a 
large town to the suburb of Sant’ Antonio. 
Here she suffered from a kind of literary nostal- 
gia, her soul yearning always for Turin, her 
lost paradise, where she had found so much joy 
and pleasure. Her eagerness to lecture was so 
great that she could not behold a chair or a 
table, without at once thinking about standing 
behind it, in the approved attitude. She thought 
scarcely of anything else; she would lecture to 
herself in her own room, she would lecture to 
the trees on the avenue. All that she heard, all 
that she read, would immediately take the shape 
of a lecture, just as molten metal takes a certain 
form from a mould. And in reference to this, it 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


must be added, that she was a peculiar specimen 
of the literary kleptomaniac, for by instinct, in- 
nocently, she would append her name to the 
work of another, as the most natural thing in the 
world. She would take, for instance, some- 
body’s published lecture and make it her own 
by adding nothing but a kind of lyrical, pedagogi- 
cal color and an excited dramatic intonation, 
when she read it aloud; and she would repeat 
it at every opportunity, gesticulating wildly, 
like a shipwrecked mariner calling for help. A 
few years ago, she published a book — an amal- 
gamation of plagiarized matter, on the cover of 
which she had printed, “All rights reserved.” 
During the period of her exile, she was accumu- 
lating a heap of the most tiresome, pirated 
matter, which she intended to use for some pur- 
pose or other, on her return to Turin. Only 
two things in the world caused her worry; the 
constant gaining of avoirdupois and the alarming 


52 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


increase of her gray hair; two obstacles which, 
according to her ideas, might greatly imperil her 
future success. 

Enrica Varetti’s remark hurt her a little. 
“Iam not a theorist, ” she answered. “I have 
had more experience than you, and I know the 
common people better. I have come to the con- 
clusion that we do not know how to teach these 
people, more particularly the workingmen. The 
workingman is ingenuous, because he is not edu- 
cated ; he is good because he works ; conse- 
quently he is easily aroused and made enthu- 
siastic. One must appeal to his patriotic senti- 
ments, to his love of the beautiful and the good; 
one must awaken in his mind the ideals of youth ! 
And this is exactly what they don’t know how 
to do, but what I would do, my friend.” 

“Good Lord!” replied the younger lady; 
“what good would your talk about ideals do, 
when they insult you to your face?” 


53 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“They would not insult me!” replied the 
other. The discussion, about to become bitter, 
was interrupted by Signorina Latti, who, 
devouring her dinner with the appetite of a 
wolf, suddenly let her fork drop on the floor 
and exclaimed: “My appetite will certainly 
prove fatal to me.” 

Her companions began to laugh. 

“By the way,” said Signora Baroffi, “Sig- 
nor Garollo told me that the f window-jumper * 
called at his office to be registered.” 

They all knew him by reputation. 

“ There is a subject I could cry over like a 
little child,” said the lady lecturer. 

“I would like to see you do it,” replied 
Enrica. 

“You would like to see me do it, would 
you?” asked her friend, with a shake of her 
head. “Sometimes these unbridled demons 
who scare everybody have hearts soft as a 


54 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


child’s. The thing is that one must know just 
what words will touch them and the words will 
do all. Just see how Principal Garollo keeps 
them in order.” 

Signor Garollo taught the second class of the 
evening school; however, the precedent would 
scarcely hold, for the pupils of this class were all 
adults. Moreover, Signorina Varetti knew that 
he did not preserve the order which he boasted 
was maintained in his classes. He said con- 
tinually: “My class is so quiet that one can 
hear the buzzing of a fly during the exercises.” 

Yet the young lady heard, even in her own 
room, an infernal noise, every evening. 

4 ‘There is something else,” ventured Sig- 
norina Latti, starting to eat anew; “Principal 
Garollo is a confirmed republican, and there- 
fore it is easier for him to maintain order; these 
people always side with those who profess 
republican principles.” 


55 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Teacher Baroffi contradicted this remark. 
Garollo, according to her, was a republican in 
principle and at heart; he kept portraits of Maz- 
zini, Saffi and Mario; his father was a disciple 
of Mazzini, and the son was faithful to the 
ideals of the father, as a matter of course. But 
he never indulged in the preaching of his politi- 
cal ideas within the class room; he abstained 
only from such cowardly adulation as would 
please those in authority. 

“Indeed, he is a silent republican,” ob- 
served Enrica, “who takes good care not to 
compromise himself, and political propaganda 
does not interfere with his accounts.” 

Her involuntary play on words made them 
all laugh. Garollo and his wife were known 
as the ardent accountants of the school trustees. 
They compiled infinite calculations on salaries 
and stipends; they were always busy figuring 
the educational disbursements, the pension re- 
56 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


ports, the statements of The Teachers* Protec- 
tive Savings Bank, evolving suggestions and re- 
marks to be made at the meeting of the Board, 
registering the dismissals of their colleagues, dis- 
cussing the budget of the Ministry of Public 
Instruction, uttering interminable lamentations 
at any increase in expenditure in any other 
branch of the State’s budget. 

They never left their home, and it was 
whispered that they spent their evenings in cal- 
culations and arguments of this nature, only 
stopping to count, between one figure and an- 
other, the cheeses and the sausages presented to 
them by the relatives of their pupils. 

Signorina Latti and Teacher Baroffi laughed 
at this for some time, and they were just on 
the point of discussing the fact that the worthy 
couple knew by heart the amount paid in sal- 
aries, indemnities and “ extras’* to all the 
teachers from St. Petersburg to California, when 


57 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Enrica heard the step of Signor Garollo in the 
hallway. He stopped in front of the door of 
her apartment. 

She was rising to go and meet him, when 
she heard him knock at the door of Signora 
Baroffi, instead of at her own. The Signora 
ran to open the door for the principal, who 
carried a large folio in his hand. 

His was a peculiar figure: that of a man 
over forty, small and thickset, with a large 
head, covered with disheveled, curly hair, a 
pallid complexion, a stern face, with a thick, 
short moustache, smoked eye-glasses and a bass 
voice. 

He did not wish to sit down. His wife 
had sent him to deliver to Signorina Varetti the 
list of pupils registered for the evening class. 

She glanced at the paper; there were forty 
names on it. She looked at the last one on the 
list — alas! it was Muroni Saltafinestra’s. 


58 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


The principal then brought forth another 
paper, smaller than the first one, on which were 
the names of the pupils who knew how to read; 
and the names of those who were entirely illiter- 
ate. “ Let me tell you,” he added, “that we 
have a new applicant.” 

“I know it,” answered the schoolmistress. 

“Now, don’t worry about it,” remarked 
he, with his rough voice, noticing some annoy- 
ance in Signorina Varetti’s face. “One can easily 
make him, and all the others, mind. It is not 
necessary to waste time either in argument, or in 
sentimental speeches. But one must be firm, frank 
and perfectly fearless. These people have char- 
acters that are strong and open, they never dis- 
obey me. I can twist them around my little 
finger. At any rate, should anything happen, 
send for me; and when I show myself they will 
be as still as mice.” 


59 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Signorina Varetti, smiling ironically, thanked 
him. Garollo wished them a good-night and 
started for the door; but he turned around to 
deliver his colleagues a good piece of news. It 
seemed that the Minister of Public Instruction 
had at last come to the conclusion to grant a 
reduction of railway fares to all teachers in the 
elementary schools. “It was high time, ,, he 
said, and left. 

Enrica and Signorina Latti bade their friend 
good-night and returned to their own rooms, 
the janitor put the iron bar in place over the 
door of the courtyard; and the house was wrap- 
ped in silence, solitary and profound. 


60 


V 



s v U1V.IU vy auuui u; uv^ovwiu Lllv 

/ 4 

stairs, on her way to the children’s 


school, she received an unexpected visitor; it 
was the mother of the “ window-jumper.” 

The woman entered the room timidly, bow- 
ing as if she were in the presence of some great 
lady. She turned her eyes around in a curious 
and respectful manner, and she seemed amazed 
at seeing the portrait of an army officer hanging 
on the wall. She was a small woman, and wore 
a yellow handkerchief over her head, which hid 


61 


WON BY a WOMAN. 


only a part of her gray hair; her attire was plaii 
but clean; her face- bore an expression of sorrow 
that was intensified by the deep, straight wrinkie 
in the middle of her forehead, and her two rest- 
less, sparkling eyes in which two tears, like 
crystals, seemed eternally fixed. 

She began with a singular question, speaking 
in a low voice, as if at the confessional. She 
asked the school teacher if she knew why her son 
had decided to attend the evening school? The 
query astounded Signorina Varetti. How should 
she know ? The suspicion that the woman might 
suppose that there existed any understanding, 
if even in words only, between herself and the 
“window -jumper,” brought the blood to her 
cheeks. 

Then speaking almost in her ear, softly and 
with a trembling voice, the old woman recom- 
mended her son. In case he should conduct him- 
self badly, or be impudent, she begged the kind 


62 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Signorina to be as indulgent as she could, and, 
on account of his temper, not to reprove him too 
much. 

Despite all the misdeeds of the “window- 
jumper,” all his cruelty to his mother, she still 
believed his moral perversion was due to his evil 
associates, rather than to his nature. But when 
she noticed the pitying look on the young 
woman’s face, the truth broke from her, all 
efforts on her part to restrain it notwithstanding. 

“Ah, my dear mistress,” she exclaimed, 
clasping her hands; “if you only knew what a 
miserable life Head! That son of mine, for 
whom I would shed my life-blood! Blessed 
Virgin Mary! he has not gone to confession 
or to the Holy Communion since he was 
thirteen years of age.” And with this the 
poor woman began to cry. Had he only gone 
to mass on Sundays, she would not have troubled 
herself about any of his actions. It was on this 

63 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


account that she had called. Would she not, the 
kind young mistress, insinuate, in an indirect man- 
ner, a few religious teachings, and inspire, little by 
little, a wholesome fear of God? Ah, if she did 
this, using her gift of persuasion as only educated 
people can, an old mother would bless her and 
pray for her until the end of her life. 

She interrupted herself in order to look out 
on the avenue, through the window; she did 
this without putting her face against the pane, 
for she feared lest her son might have seen her 
enter, and be waiting for her to come out. Her 
appearance, her every movement, demonstrated 
an unceasing dread that had grown upon her 
like a chronic disease, telling a story of sorrow 
and of suffering, of sleepless nights devoted to 
waiting for a son, whom she constantly feared 
might be brought home, wounded or dead. 
Those sorrow-filled eyes spoke eloquently of 
persecution and maltreatment from her husband; 
64 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


of her persistent terror of human and divine 
justice; of twenty-five years of martyrdom, 
passed without comfort and without rest. 

She turned to recommend her son again; 
from her humble words there transpired, never- 
theless, a certain pride of his fine looks, his 
courage and even his notoriety. Bad men and 
wicked women were always wanting his com- 
pany; they drove him to drink and to gamble; 
he was very proud and took offense at every 
trifle, and he feared nothing in the world. Yet, 
when he was a child, he had been as good as 
anybody else, and this recollection brought her 
to tears again. “Who would have thought,” 
she moaned, hiding her face in her hands; “that 
the babe I carried in my arms would cause me 
so much pain and suffering?” 

When Signorina Varetti spoke a few consol- 
ing words, the woman uncovered her face and 
looked at the school mistress, as if noticing her 
65 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


sweet voice and kindly bearing for the first time. 
She glanced at her again from head to foot, say- 
ing: “ Ah, my poor young lady! how I regret 
that such a refined woman is compelled to teach 
those reckless scapegraces.” She peered through 
the window suspiciously again, and finally took 
her leave. 


66 


VI. 



IFTEEN minutes before eight 
o’clock — the time at which school 
opened — Enrica Varetti beheld 
from her window, through the fog 
and mist, a few dark groups of work- 
ingmen. The lights from their cigars 
and pipes shone in the night like so 
many fiery eyes. She had donned for that 
evening a coffee- colored woolen dress, because 
it was of a hue and make that would attract 
little or no attention. Ten minutes before the 
hour. Signor Garollo called, for the purpose of 
introducing her to the class. 

67 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Passing through the hallway they met the 
janitor, a small old man* with a large nose and 
a timorous face. Principal Garollo ordered him 
to keep an eye on Signorina Varetti’s class. 

“ Inside?’ ’ he asked in a troubled way. 

“Outside,” replied the master. 

“Inside or outside, it is all the same to 
me,” and the weak old fellow breathed easier. 

The young teacher now entered the room 
with the head of the school; it was the one in 
which Signora Baroffi taught children in the day 
time. There were only six or seven pupils 
seated; the others were filing in slowly, by ones, 
by twos, by threes, five in a row, their copy- 
books in their hands. The men stamped on the 
floor, their feet aching from cold, and the boys 
added to the noise with their wooden shoes. 

Principal Garollo and Signorina Varetti as- 
cending the platform, on which stood a little 
table, took their stand in front of the blackboard 
68 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


and under the flaming gas jet. All the pupils 
cast inquisitive glances at their new teacher; 
some watched her closely for the full length of a 
minute, and then passed on to the benches to 
express their opinion, in whispers, to their 
neighbors. 

They were of all ages, from twelve to fifty, 
and of every occupation; workingmen from the 
iron mills and the sulphuric acid factories; tan- 
ners, masons; shepherds who came down from 
the Alps to spend their winter in Turin, here 
to shelter their herds, to sell milk and cheese, 
to shovel snow. Their linen was soiled, their 
coarse jackets were worn over two vests, or over 
heavy, thick sweaters; their heads were covered 
with a dishevelled, matted growth, and their 
beards were long and soiled. The oldest of 
them seemed ashamed to attend school, and they 
sought the last benches, leaning their backs 


69 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


against the wall, which was covered with ink 
spots up to the ceiling. 

As soon as they were all quietly seated. Sig- 
nor Garollo introduced the young lady in a 
stentorian voice, modulated to a respectful tone: 
“I introduce you to your new teacher, Signorina 
Varetti; and I ask you to be respectful and 
obedient. ,, 

Having said this, he left the room without 
another word. The new teacher remained 
motionless for a moment, eyeing her pupils, who 
looked up in silence. A shrewd observer would 
have guessed at once that the class was drawing 
a mental comparison between the new teacher 
and Signora Garollo, the old one, who was 
small, fat and over thirty; and he would have 
concluded that the comparison was in favor of 
Enrica Varetti. There was a look in their in- 
quisitive eyes that hid a thought difficult to 
fathom. The school mistress was confused, her 


70 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


mind clouded, she knew not how to begin; 
finally, she sat down in front of the table. 

At this moment the “ window -jumper ” 
entered. 

A murmur was heard, and all eyes were 
turned upon him and the teacher. She grew 
slightly pale, fearing that they all knew he had 
come to school on her account. 

The young man, with a tranquil, noncha- 
lant air, passed in front of the table, casting a 
rapid glance at the teacher, moved to the first 
row of benches at the right, placed his hand on 
a vacant seat near the wall, vaulted into it with 
a quick, graceful movement and sat down. 

It was the teacher’s first duty to briefly ex- 
amine the newcomers, in order to see whether 
they belonged in the advanced section (where 
the “window-jumper” had placed himself of 
his own accord) or in the primary division; 
from the expression on the faces of her pupils, 

7 1 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


she saw that this examination was expected, 
but she had not the courage to undertake it. 
Suddenly she commenced the lesson. 

Signor Garollo had instructed Enrica a little 
about the intellectual capacity of the class, and 
the best methods to use with them. Following 
these hints, she commenced to write, with an 
unsteady hand, a series of simple syllables on 
the blackboard. It was her intention to have 
the section at the left of the room read and write 
these, while she should hear the other section 
read from the primer. 

The lesson began well; for a short time not 
a sound was heard; those who paid no attention 
to the reading, seemed absorbed in contemplat- 
ing the teacher. 

Timidly, with stealthy glances, she examined 
her different pupils: while the first ones were 
reading, the older ones, and those less advanced, 
sat at her left. One fellow, in particular, ar- 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


rested her attention; he had the figure of a 
dwarfed Hercules; his head was abnormally 
large, his forehead low, his mouth like that of 
an ox; his stupid face bespoke brutal obstinacy, 
but it indicated, nevertheless, despite a troubled 
expression of the eyes, a certain rectitude of 
mind. He paid profound attention to her words 
and to the reading of the others. She noticed 
that he used a key, with the pen stuck into the 
wards, for a penholder. When his turn to 
read came, she inquired his name. He answered 
in a half unintelligible sort of a way: 

“ Carlo Maggia.” 

He was a butcher by trade; he was thirty- 
five years of age, but he looked much older. He 
read the syllables in a voice much like that of a 
mastiff dog, and the boys on the other side of the 
room commenced to laugh. She turned slowly 
and looked at them; they became silent. 


73 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


She was struck by the appearance of a pupil 
on the right side of the room, evidently the oldest 
of all. It was one Perotti, a tanner, who had 
a son of eleven in the same class, seated three 
seats below him; the son, whose mien was 
serious and pleasant like the father’s, was also em- 
ployed in the tannery. Glancing down the row, 
Enrica noticed the blonde head of another work- 
ingman, who impressed her most favorably. Pie 
was a man of about thirty, his face was refined 
and he was dressed neatly; the neatest man 
there, in fact. He had a long aquiline nose and 
large blue eyes, which shone with an intelligence 
and pride that became still livelier when he 
looked one in the face. 

The greater number of pupils on the other 
side were boys: dirty, wide-awake, restless, im- 
pertinent faces. At a glance one could have 
told why they were there — to have fun and to 
keep warm, rather than to learn. A boy of 


74 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


fourteen, seated at the end of the second bench, 
caused her great uneasiness by his familiar, dis- 
respectful smile. He was more perverted in 
looks than most of the lads she had yet seen in 
the factories. His eyes reflected a knowledge of 
sin and vice; by the very shape of his mouth one 
could tell that he used obscene language. He 
was yellow of complexion, round-shouldered, 
long and bony; he leered cynically, like a boy 
who had served his novitiate in those misdeeds 
which bring men to the penitentiary and the 
hospitals. 

Then she turned her attention to the boys 
who were reading the syllables on the black- 
board in chorus, singing and spelling like chil- 
dren blowing through a whistle. Meanwhile a 
strong odor, very offensive to the nostrils, was 
diffused through the school room; it was the bad 
odor from recently extinguished pipes and cigar 


75 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


stumps, from cheap wine, from machine grease, 
from tanned leather, and from stables. 

She noticed that some of the boys among 
those who read in chorus were shouting at the 
top of their voices for mere fun, but she feigned 
not to hear it. When the reading exercise was 
over, she asked the class to write the syllables 
in their copy-books, and she turned her head 
toward another part of the room. Immediately 
the men, Perotti among them, walked to her 
table with their copy-books; this they had done 
when in doubt about the work assigned to them, 
under the management of Signora Garollo, the 
former teacher. 

The gentle, timid face of the school mistress 
as she leant over the coarse, dishevelled working- 
men, intent upon their copy-books, would have 
made a beautiful subject for an artist. They were 
at work on a letter — a task given by Signora Gar- 
ollo — which a workingman is supposed to write 
76 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


his old employer, about to retire from business. 
When they had returned to their seats, Enrica 
scanned the list and chose a name at haphazard. 
“Lamagna Luigi may read his composition 
aloud,” she called. The blonde, long-haired 
laborer arose. They all became perfectly quiet, 
even the pupils of the other section, all turning 
to look at Luigi, as if awaiting a sensation. He 
started to read with an assumed ease and an 
affected negligence, as if his thoughts were not 
on his work. There were phrases in his letter 
which were entirely foreign to the subject, drag- 
ged in by the heels, and which clearly demon- 
strated that his pride was even greater than the 
teacher had suspected from his looks. She cor- 
rected some grammatical errors, to which he 
took exception in a tone of voice that clearly 
betrayed his desire to be treated with greater 
respect than was accorded to the other pupils. 


77 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


The letter was signed, f< Lamagna Luigi , 
your equal y not your servant. ’ 9 It was a revelation 
to the school mistress. He must certainly be the 
socialist of the iron foundry, whom she had heard 
described so often as an honest, ardent, but 
most peculiar character, much respected by his 
fellows, to whom he preached the new socialistic 
gospel, terminating all his discourses by recom- 
mending them to hold in due reverence their 
position in the social world; for he believed that 
such an esprit de corps was a necessary and fund- 
amental principle for their future emancipation. 

The mistress corrected him again, this time 
about a word used at the end of the letter, and 
he sat down, murmuring his objections to his 
neighbor, with a dignified smile. 

Thus far, some slight whispering excepted, 
the class had behaved well, and their teacher 
gained courage. She asked the pupils to open 
their reading book. The Italian Artisan t which 
78 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


all the pupils of the section at the right had, and 
she read a paragraph aloud to them. While 
reading, it flashed across her mind that she must 
call upon Muroni to read after she had done, 
both to break the ice and to remove all suspicion 
that she stood in dread of him; moreover, by- 
beginning at the right of the nearest bench, his 
turn would come first. After finishing the para- 
graph, she made a strong effort, and turning 
toward him, she said: “ Read on, if you please.” 

All were silent again. 

The young man arose, book in hand, smil- 
ing with the self-conscious air of one who knows 
that he is an object of curiosity and expectation. 

It was the first time that Enrica Varetti had 
looked the man straight in the eyes, and she 
experienced from it a stronger dislike than she 
had yet felt. The small head with its hair parted 
like a woman’s, in the middle; the livid com- 
plexion; the two sharp, glittering eyes, revealing 


79 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


a hard, resolute character and a relentless, piti- 
less hater; the small mouth, with its thin lips, 
looking like a gash made by a knife — all por- 
trayed a ferocious and licentious nature, more 
abhorrent than that of many a brutal criminal. 
His physique was as well-proportioned, muscu- 
lar and agile as that of a mountebank. His 
pomaded hair, his loosely knotted tie, his tight 
trousers, his wide, colored cuffs, proclaimed him 
a type of the “barabba,” a mixture of the dandy 
and the brigand, devoured by a thousand base 
appetites, held in check by poverty alone, ever 
in readiness for the most villainous deeds. The 
bearing of his body, as he leaned sideways with 
one shoulder higher than the other, the hoarse 
tones of his voice, everything about the man be- 
trayed an ungovernable and savage conceit, 
which, not being able to find an outlet, would 
some day burst forth in a scornful and dangerous 
hatred for the whole universe. 


80 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


He read poorly, stumbling purposely, while 
he raised his face off the book and, from time 
to time, cast at the teacher a glance that sent 
a cold chill through her veins. It took all her 
courage to correct his mistakes, and then she 
dared not look him in the face; but her sight 
fastened on his right hand, as she thought, with 
a shudder, that with that member he had plunged 
a knife into the heart of a friend. When the 
* ‘ window-jumper ” sat down, having finished 
his reading, she felt as if a load had been lifted 
from her shoulders. 

She guessed from the manner of the boy 
who read next — the boy who had made upon 
her such an unfavorable impression — that it was 
customary for him to provoke the hilarity of the 
class and to occasion disorder; the air of expect- 
ancy on the faces of the others was proof suffi- 
cient. Having noticed that his name was Pietro 
Maggia, she asked, in the hope of gaining his 


8r 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


good will, “if he was related to the other Mag- 
gia” — the brutal looking fellow in the other 
section. 

“He is my uncle/’ replied the lad, cutting 
a comical face, that aroused the laughter of those 
near him. The uncle, who sat busily writing 
with his key, paid no attention to him. The 
boy started to read again, changing his voice — 
a trick in which he was quite skillful — and be- 
gan to imitate the voice of a crippled beggar, a 
well known character of the suburb. The boys 
shouted with laughter; but the older pupils 
showed signs of disapproval, Perotti even called 
out from his bench in the rear: “Stop that, I 
say!” 

“Why do you treat me with such disre- 
spect?” asked Signorina Varetti, encouraged by 
the assistance the men had given her. 

The boy sat down, twisting his hands over 
his upper lip, in imitation of a man who twirls 

his mustache; she passed on to the other pupils. 

82 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


When Lamagna’s turn came, she told him to 
pronounce his “t’s” more distinctly. ‘‘It 
seems to me,” he answered with dignity, “that 
I pronounce them all right.” The others 
behaved very well. Presently she assigned them 
a paragraph to write, and turned toward the 
other section. 

Every now and then, she would steal a look 
at Muroni, in order to guess from his expression 
what his intentions were. He was writing, 
but he paused to look at her very often. His 
demeanor, although not revealing his thoughts, 
still confirmed her suspicion that he was rumi- 
nating some mischief, inspired by pure brutality, 
or a sheer love of bravado; perhaps he had a 
wager with one of his companions that he would 
frighten her; perhaps he had merely the inten- 
tion of causing her sorrow; perhaps — but who 
could guess what imp of mischief was urging 
him? 


83 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Every time their glances met, a smile would 
flit over his lipless, blade-like mouth — the 
covert, subdued smile that hides malignant 
thoughts. She was troubled, and it cost her 
considerable effort not to lose the thread of the 
lesson, and he, perceiving her embarrassment, 
stared at her triumphantly, and added more and 
more to her discomfort. Nevertheless, the 
“window-jumper” maintained, so far as any 
outward display of lawlessness was concerned, a 
correct deportment; he seemed absorbed in a 
single idea, and did not even turn around to talk 
with his neighbors. 

The two long, weary hours passed as quickly 
as one could expect. After that evening, was to 
come the blissful rest of Saturday and Sunday. 
For Monday’s lesson, Enrica Varetti arranged, as 
a task to the advanced section, a letter — to be 
addressed to a sister in a foreign land. When 
she requested the class to leave the school in 
84 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


good order, young Maggia hissed between his 
teeth, but fortunately the ringing of the bell and 
the noise of departure prevented this insult from 
being noticed. 

The pupils left the room in great disorder. 
Muroni leered at Signorina Varetti in an indecent 
manner, when he passed her table; but she 
affected not to see him. A number of the men 
said good-night, politely. 

A hubbub was occasioned outside by the 
departure of Signor Garollo’s pupils — it was 
like the exit from the top gallery of a popular 
theatre on Mardi-Gras night. Shouts, hisses, 
whistles, howls, the stamping of wooden shoes, 
cat-calls, commingled to create pandemonium. 
In the confusion of questions and answers, Enrica 
Varetti heard her name pronounced quite often, 
likewise comments on her figure, followed by 
laughter, insinuating exclamations, guffaws and a 
howling like that of wild beasts. For about 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


a minute or two, the striking of matches, the 
flames of burning papers applied to cigars and 
pipes, illuminated the fog like the shining of 
stars in the mist. Little by little, the uproar 
died out; nothing more was heard but the echo 
of the far-away noises of the suburb. A pro- 
found silence soon followed. 


86 


VII 



NRICA VARETTI left 
the school room under a 
tranquil frame of mind. 
Her class was not as bad 


as she imagined; there were some honest men 
in it, who might be disposed to check the mis- 
chievous boys; above everything, the image of 
Perotti, whose honest face was like a protection, 
soothed and comforted her. She asked Signor 
Garollo, whom she met on the staircase, about 
him, and he spoke of her favorite pupil in the 
highest terms. He was a good mechanic and 
an excellent paterfamilias , who had worked as 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


a cabinet-maker before entering the tannery; 
and he had constructed two or three graceful 
pieces of furniture for the pedagogical museum. 
Both Perotti and his son were very desirous of 
gaining an education; they hastened from the 
tannery to the school house without eating their 
supper, thus going without food for ten success- 
ive hours: and the youngest boy, who had fin- 
ished the second elementary course, would 
correct his father’s exercises, when the latter 
returned at night. “You will find out,” con- 
cluded the principal, “that there are some 
respectable fellows in your class. If, however, 
any trouble should arise, send the janitor for me 
and my presence will immediately quell any 
disturbance.” 

On Monday, Signorina Varetti went into 
the school with far greater confidence and self- 
possession than she had been able to muster three 


88 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


days ago; although she was still held in thrall 
by fear of the ** window-jumper.’ * 

But she discovered only too soon that the 
younger boys were no longer absorbed by the 
curiosity she had awakened in them on the first 
night; besides, they had found out that she was 
timid by temperament, and they no longer re- 
frained from exasperating her. 

While she stood writing the syllables on the 
blackboard, she heard a suppressed giggling, and 
she knew that somebody was making impertinent 
gestures behind her back. Then, too, the rogues 
talked aloud; some even went to sleep and snored 
so loudly that she was obliged to wake them up. 
Twice she was forced to interrupt her teaching, 
and, becoming disheartened, she hoped that the 
older pupils, vexed at being disturbed, would 
come to her assistance. Little Maggia was amusing 
his comrades by a series of peculiar calisthenics, 
which he performed with his hands and feet; 

89 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


when she stopped to watch him, he simulated 
perfect innocence. He became so impertinent 
that she was obliged to turn her eyes in another 
direction, pretending not to notice his antics. 

Silence reigned, when the “window-jump- 
er” left his place, with his copy-book in hand, 
to ask some questions about the task assigned 
to him. Signorina Varetti trembled inwardly, 
seized by a presentiment that something of im- 
portance was about to occur. He approached 
ner in a dignified manner, affecting seriousness 
and, placing his book on her desk, asked her to 
explain a certain phrase. Literally trembling, 
and drawing herself back so that she should not 
come into contact with him, the young teacher 
leaned over the copy-book and read the first 
few lines of his “ Letter to a Sister.” 

Suddenly, prompted by her deeply outraged 
feelings, she grasped the book in both hands. 


90 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


tore it in two, and pushed it away. His letter 
was a declaration of love to her. 

The young fellow grasped the torn pages 
and returned to his seat, with head down and a 
sinister smile on his face. For a few moments 
Enrica remained perfectly quiet, her face white 
as snow; then she made an heroic effort and 
resumed the lesson. 

Such an unexpected occurrence kept the 
class in a quiet mood of anticipation. Toward 
the end of the lesson, when she arose to write 
on the blackboard again, she was startled by 
the sound of a spitball, which struck the center 
of the blackboard and fell at her feet. 

Her cheeks flushing, she turned to discover 
the guilty party. The ball could not have been 
thrown by Muroni, for it certainly came from 
the middle of the room. The expression on 
Maggia’s face was impenetrable; the other lads 
were as immobile as statues. 


9i 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“Who did that?” she asked, in a moved 
voice. 

She endeavored to read the answer to her 
query in the countenances of the older pupils; 
she looked at Perotti in particular. They all 
bent their heads. Discouraged, she made one 
more effort to swallow her tears, and proceeded 
with her work. 

The last insult oppressed her tender heart 
more than did the insulting love-letter of Muroni, 
although the latter was more offensive to her 
womanly pride. Her sad countenance resulted 
in keeping the pupils quiet for awhile, with the 
exception of young Maggia, who did his best 
to make everybody laugh. However, the older 
men began to grow indignant and they hushed 
him up. With a heavy heart, and paying no 
further attention to Muroni until the end of the 
lesson, she called on the scholars to read aloud 
by turn. Fascinated, as it were, despite herself. 


92 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


something made her look once at her tormentor; 
his expression made her blood run cold; it was 
not that half-curious, half-scornful glance of the 
first evening, but it was a sharp, threatening 
glare, darting defiance from half-shut eyelids, 
that spoke of hurt pride, of vengeance, of an 
avowed declaration to get even. In a second 
she pictured herself attacked, struck, stabbed, 
stretched lifeless on the snow; and again she 
felt the blood freeze in her veins, and her knees 
trembled as if she were in the throes of a high 
fever. 

At the close of the session, she noticed a 
number of pupils crowding around Muroni in 
the hallway, to inquire the meaning of the 
school mistress’s wrath against him. Perotti 
was one of the last to leave. 

Signorina Varetti called him back. 

He approached her very respectfully, hat in 
hand. 


93 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“You certainly saw,” she said, her voice 
still quavering, “how I was insulted by the 
throwing of the spitball. If I do not discover 
the guilty one and bring him to punishment, 
they will insult me still worse. Why, since 
you are a gentleman, do you refuse to tell me 
who the culprit was ? ’ * 

Thoroughly abashed, Perotti lowered his 
face, but gave no reply. 

“Why don’t you denounce the guilty one?” 
she repeated. 

“Ah, my dear young lady,” spoke the 
laborer frankly; “for the reason that I don’t 
want a knife thrust in my back.” 

A look of disgust crossed Enrica Varetti’s 
face. “But it was only a mere boy,” said she. 

“Just so,” the other responded; “they are 
the worst of the lot.” 

The teacher would say no more, and Perotti 
left, hat in hand. 


94 


VIII 



ER first thought was 
to give up the class. 
But the sentiment 
of offended dignity 
conquered ; it would 
be cowardice to yield thus sud- 
denly to the insult of a boy, the 
worst in the school. She decided 
to persist, and to conceal her fear and her dis- 
couragement. 

Inadvertently, Signora Baroffi brought the 
subject up next morning at breakfast, complain- 
ing that the pupils of her evening class had bored 


95 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


the bottom of the inkwells fixed in the benches, 
in such a manner that on the following morning 
the ink oozed out and ruined the girls* dresses. 
Then Enrica, her resolves to the contrary, spoke 
of her own anguish of mind. Her listener in a 
heavy, imposing tone of voice, delivered her 
customary lecture: “Do speak to them,” she 
entreated; “ deliver a fine speech that will move 
them to tears. Until you gain appreciation in 
this way, your efforts will be in vain. I will 
write a speech for you, if you wish. Your 
motto should be, Sursum cor da. Ah, if I only 
were in your place, I should have them kissing 
my hands, like grateful slaves.* * 

Signorina Varetti did not mention a word 
about the Muroni episode; for, although he had 
insulted her grossly, he had now made the pur- 
pose of his registration clear, and removed from 
her mind that dreadful load of uncertainty. 
Her fear of his revenging himself for his wound- 


96 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


ed vanity weighed less upon her than the awful 
mystery of his possible intentions. 

Unfortunately, the third session was more 
stormy than the second. She saw, at the start, 
that there was some agreement between the 
most unruly boys to create a disturbance; and 
the countenance of Muroni showed that his plan 
of attack had changed completely. He sat on 
the bench with a bravado air, his hands thrust 
in his pockets, one leg over the other, gazing at 
her from head to foot, and from foot to head, 
accompanying his glance with a continual smile, 
as if he desired to make her know what made 
him gaze at her figure with longing eyes. She 
noticed further, that there was an understanding 
between him and little Maggia; for he encour- 
aged the boy’s impertinence by sly glances. She 
withstood it as long as she was able, without 
reproving anybody. But, without wishing to 
do so, the socialist, Lamagna, precipitated an 


97 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


uproar. It happened that when one of the 
pupils of the right section read these words 
aloud from the Italian Artisan , “An up- 
right man, even if poor, is always contented 
and honored,” Lamagna laughed ironically, 
and at the top of his voice, and cried: “What 
kind of nonsense is that?” 

The boys burst out laughing. 

Enrica was comforted to see that the peas- 
ants and shepherds looked reproachful and 
shocked, and even admonished the others for 
their bad conduct. It was a most timely token 
of sympathy, that gave her courage enough to 
threaten the miscreants with expulsion; but her 
voice was so tremulous and awed that no one 
heeded her threats. In the midst of an inter- 
ruption caused by little Maggia, his strong, 
dwarfed, herculean uncle arose and showed him 
the whites of his eyes and his enormous fist; 
the man was raging like a mad bull, but all his 
98 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


anger served only to hold the rascal in order for 
a few moments. He did nothing openly which 
would warrant his expulsion; that is, Signorina 
Varetti was unable to catch him in the act. 

With a marvelous rapidity and variety of 
gestures, grimaces and jokes, the boy excited the 
laughter of his more immediate and more remote 
neighbors; but when the teacher would turn her 
attention to him, he could always regain his 
composure in time to assume a serene and inno- 
cent countenance. 

Finally, an outbreak occurred. Signorina 
Varetti called upon Muroni to read; when he 
had finished, he turned his back to her and 
remained standing. Owing to his posture, she 
could not see what he was doing, but the hilarity 
of the young boys made her suspect that it was 
some insult to her, and she changed color. 

Cries of indignation burst forth and she heard 
the voice of Perotti crying, “For shame! for 
shame!” 




99 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Muroni turned suddenly, and fixed his two 
terrible black eyes upon him, in which shone a 
positive thirst for vengeance. He hissed between 
his set teeth: “Til see you later.’ ’ 

Signorina Varetti’s heart stood still; she saw 
an imaginary knife blade in the air; her sight 
grew dim; she did not have courage enough to 
pronounce a word of reproach. Anticipating a 
fight, the class remained quiet. For Perotti’s 
sake, the poor girl now wished that the lesson 
might never come to an end. When the time 
for closing came, she summoned up sufficient 
resolution to say, in a weakly assertive tone: 
** Leave the room quietly and go home at once; 
don’t cause me any more sorrow.” 

The “ window -jumper ” awaited Perotti on 
the avenue, in front of the school house. Enrica 
Varetti, trembling like a leaf, stood on the thresh- 
old of the door. In vain she had entreated 
the janitor to interfere with the antagonists; he 


ioo 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


told her that he would separate them as soon as 
they came to blows; but he did not budge from 
his position behind the young teacher. Perotti 
and Muroni, face to face, stood under the garish 
light of the street lamp. The crowd was silent; 
she could hear their voices. 

“Just repeat what you said!” exclaimed 
Muroni. At that moment the whining voice of 
Perotti’ s son was heard, begging his father to 
go away; it appeared as if he were trying to 
drag him home by sheer force. 

A cold, clammy perspiration stood on En- 
rica’s brow. 

From the tone of Perotti’ s voice she knew 
that he was retracting; she heard him say con- 
fusedly: “Among friends — it is hardly worth 
the while — when a fellow says what he feels 
about ” 

The boys gave vent to a prolonged “ah!” 
— a sign which showed their disappointed dis- 

IOI 


X 


WON BY a WOMAN. 


gust at the “backing out” of Enrica’s sole 
defender. 

Murom’ s voice arose, strong and clear, over 
their murmuring: “Keep your observations to 
yourself — ” the rest she could not make out; it 
sounded like so much hissing. 

Perotti replied apologetically; the quarrel 
was avoided; the two contestants and the crowd 
moved on. 

Enrica breathed again. But she knew now 
that no one would protect her in the future 
against any insult, howsoever gross. 


102 




IX 



OW how could she 
continue teaching her 
evening class without 
establishing discipline? 
She thought of calling 
Signor Garollo to her 
aid; but she knew him: 
he would exhort her 
to be more patient, and he would 
promise again “to put in his 
appearance* * when matters 
should approach a climax. She 
could have recourse to the Super- 
intendent of Schools, the Chev- 
alier Salis, the owner of the 
large rolling mills; but he was 
a man one could never find — always at Turin 
when one sought him at Sant* Antonio, 


103 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


and vice versa. Moreover, he had made it a 
hard and fast rule never to interfere with the 
workingmen outside of the mill. Signorina 
Varetti was still in doubt as to what course she 
should pursue for the next session, when some 
one came to beg her to pay a visit to a sick 
child in the suburb. 

They had only to stroll down the avenue, 
to walk a hundred steps in the village and they 
would be there; as it was still daylight, she had 
nothing to fear from Muroni. Enrica started at 
once. But she was detained at the patient’s 
home for a longer time than she had expected; 
it was dark when she went out. She was going 
to ask for an escort, but fearing she would be 
laughed at, she departed alone. When she 
reached the entrance to the avenue and saw how 
deserted it was, she stopped. Then she walked 
resolutely down the small path tracked through 
the frozen snow, casting suspicious glances to 


104 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


the right and to the left. She thought the way 
had never been so long; it seemed to her that 
she would never reach the bench which marked 
the middle of the avenue. She had scarcely 
arrived at the spot when she saw a man jump 
suddenly into the road, from behind a huge tree 
trunk at the left, and plant himself five feet from 
her. The blood beat at her temples — it was 
Muroni! 

She stopped, as if paralyzed. 

The fellow moved a step forward; she was 
unable to budge; her feet seemed nailed to the 
ground. The young fellow asked, in a low, 
hoarse voice: “Why did you tear my copy- 
book?’ ’ 

She did not reply. 

“That is no way to treat a man,” said he. 

She remained silent, trembling from head 
to foot. 

“ I might make you repent it,” he went on. 


105 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


She shook so violently that the rascal noticed 
it. 

“Why are you afraid?” he asked, looking 
around. “There is no one here; give me a 
kiss.” 

He made a move toward her. 

The Signorina burst into tears. At that 
moment a shadow appeared at the end of the 
avenue. 

“I only said it in fun,” he hastened to say. 
Then he added in a threatening voice: “Don’t 
you breathe a word about this.” 

The young teacher fled, with trembling 
steps, toward the school house. 

She was so terribly upset when she entered 
the house that she did not even think of de- 
nouncing the man to the police. When she 
had partly recovered she thanked God, as if 
she had met with some great piece of good 
fortune, for having escaped from that meeting. 


106 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


with no further harm than a severe shock. She 
formed a firm resolve never to leave the house 
unaccompanied at night. She took some comfort 
in the thought that Muroni would never molest 
her in that fashion again; for her tears and her 
fright must have awakened some pity in his soul; 
and her suffering must have been all the ven- 
geance his offended pride could demand. 

And truly, during the next lesson, the 
* ‘ window-jumper ” conducted himself entirely 
differently. Still, there was something in his 
manner which told her that the change was 
merely on the surface. She felt that he had 
returned to his former ideas, the ones he held 
before he commenced to persecute her, and that 
he was more resolved than ever to accomplish 
his fiendish purpose. He did not look at her 
with that suggestive way of his; but far from 
expressing benevolence, his glances showed more 
hatred than ever. He would look at her, and 
107 




% 


Won by a woman. 


think, and bite his finger-nails, evidently con- 
cocting something, a number of things, and from 
his aspect it was evident that he had found, so 
far, nothing to suit him. And thus he conducted 
himself for several evenings, always looking 
more thoughtful, more revengeful. His bearing 
became intolerably torturing for the poor little 
teacher. She would have preferred a thousand 
times to have questioned him, to have asked him 
to explain himself, to have beseeched his mercy 
— anything rather than the persecution of this 
perpetual threat; for what could he do to her 
that could make her suffer more than she had 
already endured from the morbid fancies of her 
imagination? 

When Enrica was alone, and able to reason 
the matter out more calmly, she tried to pene- 
trate into the depths of the man’s thought with 
the aid of her vague, scanty knowledge of the 
lower classes — a knowledge that had only come 
108 




WON BY A WOMAN. 


to her at second hand. For example, she 
reasoned that he had desired to win her, as he 
would desire any other woman, merely to satisfy 
his brutal passion, and that he hated her on 
account of the aversion she had shown for him; 
moreover, he despised the upper classes, from 
which she sprung, and he manifested the keenest 
hatred and scorn for them; and on account or 
that very hatred of class (urged on by his own 
inherent weakness of character, his wickedness 
and vanity) he would avenge himself by injur- 
ing, by tormenting, by threatening her. Urged 
by a cruel curiosity, he would desire to find out 
how she would sue for mercy, how she would 
cry and suffer and moan from his blows. He 
would desire to conquer her, in order that he 
might call her by all those vile names, the only 
ones he had at his tongue’s end; he cherished 
the thought that it should be in his power to 
humiliate her in the presence of everybody. All 


109 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


this she read in the furious glances from his eyes, 
which at times glared like the fire in the eyes of 
a wild beast; she saw it in his manner of draw- 
ing breath with his lipless mouth, as if he were 
holding back an outburst of rage. She was 
haunted, nay, she was terrified by such fancies; 
she tried to drive them from her thoughts, but 
they were stronger than her weak will and would 
not be quieted. 

The young boys, no longer encouraged by 
the * ‘ window-jumper ” to outbreaks of disorder, 
behaved somewhat better during the next few 
lessons. 

But the little Maggia always managed to 
precipitate some disturbance or other. One 
evening, she was obliged to suspend him from 
school, for placing a narrow plank across the 
passageway in such a manner that the pupils, on 
their way to the blackboard, stumbled and fell. 
The older men still preserved the best of be- 


IIO 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


havior; but the sneers of the boys, when they 
made mistakes in reading or writing, aroused 
their elders* anger to such a degree that Sig- 
norina Varetti sometimes feared all would come 
to blows; but this never occurred. Uncle Mag- 
gia continued to study with the obstinacy of a 
mule. The shepherds plodded along diligently. 

One night, Enrica had a brief discussion 
with the pupil Lamagno, who had always shown 
the deepest respect for her. He endeavored, 
however, to make her understand that he would 
not admit a social superiority in her, that he 
considered her no more above him than a 
woman of his own class; instead of putting her 
behind a counter to sell provisions, accident 
had made her a school teacher to impart knowl- 
edge from behind a desk. Signorina Varetti 
was much amused by an idea of his, to the effect 
that labor was rewarded by conscience. He ex- 
plained, in his own way, that the more talented 


hi 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


men should receive no greater recompense on 
that account, than those without any talent; 
on the contrary, they should receive less, since 
genius was an aid to labor and was a reward in 
itself. Enrica, although she knew that this idea 
did not originate in his brain, made some objec- 
tions to his theories in a pleasant manner. 
“That is just my way of thinking,” he replied 
dryly. Here the conversation ended. And 
the young lady thought that a period of lasting 
quiet had begun. 

Nevertheless, as the class grew more familiar 
with her, she noticed certain changes, especially 
among the older ones. It appeared that by 
degrees they were feeling the sexual influence 
of her person, which was slowly spreading 
from the youngest to the oldest. She had begun 
to notice in the fixed and prolonged glances of 
her pupils, an expression of solicitude, respect 
and sympathy, in which the intention of capti- 
1 12 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


vating her good will, and amorous desires 
(whispered in one another’s ears) were per- 
fectly apparent. Enrica observed among the 
men a visible yearning to please, in order that 
they might gain her admiration. They would 
pretend to pay profound attention to her ex- 
planations, approving all she said with a nod of 
their heads, preparing their lessons with great 
diligence, walking to her desk and asking for 
explanations about all sorts of things. Even 
those who had looked at her with indifference, 
would glance at her now from head to foot, 
letting their eyes rest on every part of her per- 
son, as if wanting to take her measure for a 
dress. 

The adults assumed an attitude of ben- 
evolent protection, openly disapproving the dis- 
turbers; and she observed a radiant smile of 
satisfaction pass over their faces as they listened 
to the sweet inflections of her voice; but she 

113 




WON BY A WOMAN. 


divined, better than she could see, something 
unusual going on in their inner consciousness — 
a movement, an attempt to dispel a sudden 
thought, whenever she approached their benches 
to look at their writing. All these manifest- 
ations annoyed her; she hesitated to walk down 
the aisles; she was compelled to pay undue 
attention to their gestures and attitudes; she 
shrank with a child-like timidity from men- 
tioning certain phrases which were equivocal 
in meaning, from reading certain passages, 
in the book, which required an effective into- 
nation. Nevertheless, in their very expression of 
thoughts and desires which so troubled her, she 
saw, like the sudden flashes of revelation, many 
qualities of a noble soul, a certain delicacy which 
she had never imagined they possessed, and 
which were habitually concealed under the 
coarseness of their manners, by the use of vile 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


language, by a vulgarity more the result of choice 
than of nature. 

The boys were the only incorrigible ones, 
and Muroni, the only adult who inspired her 
with an unconquerable repugnance, made still 
worse by a new occurrence. One Sunday 
evening there ascended to her room the distant 
cries of a quarrel which was taking place near the 
“Gallina” inn. She ran to the window and 
saw a crowd at the end of the avenue; a fierce 
fight was raging. From the black mass of 
people a man sprang forth, like a shadow, and 
ran down the avenue with the speed of the light- 
ning; another figure darted after him. When 
the first one passed in front of the school house, 
the teacher heard the sharp cry of: “Help! 
help!” which resounded in the inmost depths 
of her soul. The man darted behind the 
church, his assailant followed, swift as an arrow 
from the bow. The janitor, who was regard- 
1*5 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


ing the affair from behind the door, recognized 
Muroni as the pursuer. Enrica remained stand- 
ing where she was, with beating heart, wait- 
ing to hear of a murder. Nothing happened, 
however; the victim escaped. But this cry of 
“help,” in which the dreadful terror of death 
resounded, still rang in her ears, and filled her 
mind with a still more violent horror of her 
enemy. 


116 


X 


N the following day (this terrible 
incident still weighing heavily 
upon her mind), Enrica Varetti 
was crossing the open fields cov- 
ered with snow, on her way to 
the suburb to do some shopping, 
and thinking that Muroni would 
not dare to stop her in broad 
daylight in front of the school 
house, when she saw him emerge 
from behind the building and walk toward her. 
Terrified, she turned around ; only a group of 
little children, sliding on the ice of the avenue, 
could be seen at about one hundred paces from 
her. 

It was too late to turn her back, unless she 
ran; but that seemed to her a cowardly act. 

117 



WON BY A WOMAN. 


She was armed with a desperate courage, born 
of the excess of fear, and she moved directly 
toward him, with unsteady step, but head erect. 

They met on the narrow path traced through 
the snow. 

They drew to a halt, at three paces from each 
other. 

He removed his pipe from his mouth and 
put it in the pocket of his coat, and, holding his 
thumb over it, he looked at her with a smile 
that made her tremble. He seemed to be think- 
ing of the words with which he intended to be- 
gin the conversation. 

Signorina Varetti took advantage of his hesi- 
tation and commenced with an outburst of in- 
dignation: ‘ ‘ Why do you not treat me with 
respect ?” she cried, with tears in her voice, and 
she took a step backward. “ How dare you in- 
sult a woman, who is unable to defend her- 



♦re'- • 


<xr 




Z0mir 



























































































WON BY A WOMAN. 


self? But what do you want of me? Why 
do you stop me ? What have I done to you ? 

He looked around the field rapidly; she 
feared that he was going to take hold of her. 

“Do, at least, respect the memory of my 
father. I am the daughter of a soldier, who died 
on the field of battle.’ * 

At this moment, all fear disappeared from 
her face, contracted by a sob, and gave way to 
an expression of utter contempt for him, and rev- 
erent love for the memory of the father whom 
she had invoked. 

Muroni, looking at her attentively, said in a 
low tone of voice and very tranquilly: “I don’t 
wish to do you any harm.” 

This response diminished her terror, and her 
tears were able to find vent. 

“I don’t want to be stopped like this,” she 


said. 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“I didn’t stop you,” he answered, looking 
around. 

“Then let me go !” 

He stepped to one side in the snow, and, 
while she was passing, said, in a tone of com- 
plaint, rather than rancor: “I am not an as- 
sassin.” 

Fearing lest he take her silence for an in- 
sult, she turned around and said, in a voice 
which still trembled with tears, and which 
sounded, despite her efforts, very supplicating: 
“No? then don’t ever stop me like this again.” 

Having spoken thus, she was surprised at 
not meeting his glance, which shrank from hers. 
She hastened away with hurried steps, and when 
she reached the end of the field she turned, in- 
voluntarily to look back. He turned around 
just at that moment; he had not moved from 
the spot where she met him. 


120 


XI 


E-IE returned home fright- 
ened and trembling, but 
comforted by the feeling 
of having gained a victory; still more, by the 
thought that she had displayed more courage 
than she had believed herself capable of muster- 
ing. 

The fact that Muroni had avoided her 
glance when she turned around, seemed to her 
at first, a sign of shame and regret, which must 
augur well for the future. She recalled to mind 
the advice of Principal Garollo, who had said to 
her that with the proletariat one must be bold 
and outspoken; and the ideas of Signora Baroffi, 
121 



WON BY A WOMAN. 


according to whom, a noble and impassioned 
word would suffice to soften the hardest ot 
hearts. 

Despite these conjectures, Enrica soon drove 
these illusions from her mind, thinking of the 
young man’s evil career, his cruelty to his 
mother, his cynicism — that never-to-be-forgotten 
cry of “Help, help,” uttered by that unfortunate 
fellow, feeling the grasp of death upon his 
shoulder. It was only now that she recognized 
why Muroni had conducted himself as he did 
at their first meeting on the avenue — he was 
afraid that she would resist vigorously and call 
people to her aid. 

Nevertheless she went to school on that 
evening with less trepidation than curiosity to 
see in what manner the “ window-jumper ” 
would conduct himself. His behavior was indeed 
changed, but not jn the way that the young 
teacher could have wished. He no longer dis- 


122 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


played a visible hatred, nor did he look as if he 
were entertaining some project for mischief. He 
gazed at her with an attentive curiosity — as ir 
it were the first time he had seen her — which 
was entirely free from that glare of resentment 
for his hurt pride. * 

Had the school mistress been able to pen- 
etrate inside his brain and see what thoughts 
were moving within it, she would have dis- 
covered that it was exactly her indignation, her 
suppressed sobs and tears, the proud invocation 
of her father’s memory, that had wrought the 
change in her arch-enemy. Not that his heart 
had been touched in the least; but her whole 
bearing was something entirely new to him — it 
was a revelation of sentiments and feelings that 
he had never imagined to exist in the breast or 
any woman. He beheld her now as a curios- 
ity, as a peculiar being, incomprehensible, im- 
possible for his intelligence to grasp. 


123 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


It dawned on him for the first time, in a 
vague sort of a way, that her dislike for him 
was due to a stronger, more profound, more 
delicate antipathy than his reason could fathom. 

Moreover, he was beginning to feel the in- 
fluence that the presence of the young woman 
exerted over all her older pupils, although he 
was impressed by it long after the rest of the 
class. She was so different in spirit, in appear- 
ance, in manners, from the other women he had 
known in his life. Genuine ladies, he had seen 
only as they passed on the street — from a 
distance, as it were — and it had never occurred 
to him that, owing to birth and breeding, they 
were entirely apart from the women of his class; 
that is to say, he thought the only difference 
between the women of the lower and the upper 
classes lay in dress and manners. If any other 
distinction existed, it must be that the latter con- 
cealed their perversity better; that the ease and 


124 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


luxury of their lives aided them to disguise 
their moral and mental corruption. Signorina 
Varetti had upset all his ideas on that subject. 
She was the first lady he had seen so closely, as 
often as he wanted — every evening, in fact; 
the first one who had spoken to him and who, 
in a certain sense, cared for him; the first one 
whose breath had touched him, at whom he 
could gaze as long as he liked (just as if she 
were in his own house), whose every gesture, 
facial expression and tone of voice he could 
watch closely for two long hours every day. 

Muroni noticed all these things as soon as 
his intolerable vanity had given way, allowing 
more scope to his faculty of observation. It was 
all wonderful to him, and led him to believe that 
it was not a mere polish, a veneering, as he had 
at first fancied, but an actual and thorough-go- 
ing dissimilarity in blood and bones and flesh. 
To him, Enrica Varetti was a new variety of 


12 5 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


the human species. Notwithstanding his sel- 
fish pride, born, as in all men of his peculiar 
disposition, of a preponderant and unlimited 
ambition, of the knowledge that he had qualities 
and abilities above the average, which had been 
deadened by poverty and lack of education — 
Muroni discerned in the young teacher something 
which was superior to him, and which caused 
humiliation without arousing any bitterness of 
feeling. 

He followed diligently, with eye and mind, 
every movement she made, the expressions of 
her countenance, her accent, as if trying to dis- 
cover the cause of the effect she produced on him; 
like one who tries to analyze the sensations 
which are awakened by music. At times, he 
would rebel against this influence with all the 
rage of scorn, returning to his old suspicion that 
it was all the result of a superficial gloss; but it 
was a suspicion that he could not long maintain. 

1 26 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


He endeavored to battle against himself, 
calling to mind wicked images — in the midst of 
which he would place her, tainted and dis- 
torted by some vile environment. He ran- 
sacked the depths of his fancy, to place himself 
on a common vantage ground with her — all his 
worst thoughts, all his deviltries, all his abomi- 
nable aberrations, he called to his help. But no 
matter what vagaries he indulged in, her figure 
always arose, pure and serene, from the foul 
waters in which he immersed it, like a vapor 
from a misty lake: always did she reappear be- 
hind her desk, with her white forehead, her 
childlike grace, her dignified modesty, with I 
know not what air of power and domination, 
whose spirit and real essence he could not grasp, 
which pleased him and angered him at the same 
time; which bewildered him, mystified him, 
mastered him, and made him, after he had left 
the room, give vent to blasphemous ejaculations. 


27 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


vile and brutal curses, as if the force of his nature 
were undergoing violent reaction against the ten- 
derness that was working its way into his blood. 

This transformation was slow in coming and 
Enrica did not notice it at first; perhaps for the 
reason that Muroni, wishing to keep up his 
reputation for bravado among his associates, 
would give a reckless exhibition of his ability to 
create disturbance and disorder, every once in a 
while, without fearing punishment or heeding 
consequences. But he did this in a new way, 
rather to call attention to himself than to give 
offense to the school mistress, who, vaguely sus- 
pecting his motive, did not mind his disobedi- 
ence so much now as she had in the past. 

After a few days, however, she noticed a 
decided change in the young man; he worked 
at his writing diligently; he tried to moderate 
the harsh tones of his voice when reading; he 
accepted his corrections much more graciously 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


than he had at first; he even tried to make her 
give more time to them, as if he were enjoying 
a pleasant conversation. One evening she 
dropped her pen on the floor and Muroni passed 
with a rapid movement to the end of the first 
row, where it happened to roll, picked it up 
and handed it back. 

The class uttered a murmur of surprise. 

He rendered her another service, still more 
polite. There would appear, every now and 
then, at the end of the heater some large mice, 
which made their way from the tannery, pass- 
ing through the long coil of water pipes; and 
the pupils, without attempting to kill or chase 
them away, amused themselves watching the 
fear Signorina Varetti’s face plainly showed, as 
she heard the rodents gnawing inside the pipes. 
One night the mice put in their appearance 
again, and as the teacher evinced once more her 
uneasiness, the te window-jumper ” darted out 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


of his seat, amid the snickering and giggling of 
the pupils, and kicked at the heater and put the 
vermin to flight, after which, as if to hide the 
courtesy of the act, he returned to his place, 
cutting a grimace at the class to awaken laughter. 

This act, nevertheless, was noted and, con- 
nected with certain other indications, awoke a 
peculiar suspicion among the more astute pupils; 
the little Maggia was the first one to give vent 
to it. He began to watch the teacher and the 
young man, running his fox-like eyes continually 
from one to the other; coughing slightly when 
Signorina Varetti would question Muroni; nudg- 
ing his neighbors with his elbow, winking slyly 
when he caught the “ window-jumper ” in a 
deep contemplation of Signorina Varetti. But 
all this he did cautiously, knowing that Muroni 
was not a man to be trifled with. 

The young teacher had soon discovered the 
motive of the boy’s actions, and, having noticed 
13° 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


the change in Muroni, she would have been 
disposed to look at him less diffidently and to 
have questioned him more frequently, had she 
not been tormented by the continual vigilance 
of the smiling, malignant eyes of little Maggia, 
which were forever trying to look within her 
mind. But, after all, this was but a minor 
trouble, now that she had been freed from her 
worst torture, and comparative peace and secur- 
ity had re-entered her life. 


3 


XII. 



IGNORINA Va- 
retti was more tran- 
quil now because, not 
knowing the young 
men of this class and 
fiber, she thought that 
Muroni’s altered behavior 
* *" would grow steadfast and 

fixed. But when he saw that, owing to his 
better conduct, her repugnance and fear had 
vanished, without leaving a feeling of sympathy 
to take their place, and that she treated him 
with the same indifference as the other pupils, 
then he suffered a disappointment that incit- 
ed him the more. The fear, the aversion he 
had awakened in her, was, at least, of some sat- 
132 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


isfaction to his vanity, for they were the result 
of his notoriety, of his reputation as a man 
daring enough to undertake anything. Then he 
was not considered on a par with the other 
pupils; he had, in school and out of school, an ad- 
vantage over his fellows, a supremacy of which 
it was his delight to boast. Now, whatever the 
cause might be, he found himself disarmed, as it 
were; he was without any means of attracting 
the young teacher’s attention or of producing any 
effect upon her mind. And, as his sympathy 
for her increased, he felt more bitterly the differ- 
ence in their social positions, his inferiority in 
culture, in education, in manners — in everything 
that could make him hope to touch a responsive 
chord in her bosom. 

Thus, a new and sharper realization of his 
position, a new and confused ambition, turned in 
a different direction than at first, when he 
sought glory in wicked deeds, in vicious conduct 

133 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


and in fights, was gradually gaining ground in 
his mind. But this new ambition, not being 
able to find an outlet, burned within him like an all- 
consuming fire, increasing the ardor of his former 
passion. Nevertheless, by instinct, without even 
thinking of what he did, he tried to win approval 
in the young lady’s eyes. A keen observer 
would have noticed that, from day to day, his 
hair was more carefully combed, his face and 
hands were cleaner, that there was a more 
studied neatness in his dress, something more 
dignified in his bearing, that he made no more 
gross errors in his lessons, that he did not blun- 
der and stumble through them. All these 
things denoted his intention to improve his per- 
son and his mind, as if he were copying some 
model, or following an ideal. 

These symptoms, with the exception, per- 
haps, of his new way of looking at her, escaped 
the attention of the school mistress, and she was 


1 34 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


led to believe that the thoughts which ran 
through his head were other than they were in 
reality. His glances were frowning, persistent, 
always directed at her figure, rather than her 
eyes, which he appeared to avoid; they watched 
her slightest movement, as if each one had for 
him the significance of a written word, as diffi- 
cult to comprehend as words of a foreign tongue. 
Likewise, he meditated on every phrase that 
passed her lips, differing at all from the conven- 
tional language of the school; as though they were 
so many rays that would allow him to penetrate 
the hidden recesses of her mind, and discover 
what strange, mystic faculty gave her the power 
to produce sounds, the like of which he had never 
heard before. 

When the school mistress entered and left 
the room, by taking advantage of those moments 
when Muroni thought he could see without be- 
ing seen, she met his sharp, eager, ardent 

135 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


glance; covered, so to speak, by a thin veil of 
shame — not shame for his past disgraceful inso- 
lence, but for his nascent passion. However, 
she believed that it was the former, and she was 
reassured by this conviction. 


XIII 



ATTERS stood thus, 
when one morning, 
during the recess of the 
children’s class, while tak- 
ing an airing in the sun-lit 
court, Enrica Varetti beheld 
the face of Muroni’s mother 
peeping through the outside 
door. As soon as the 

teacher beheld her, the old woman looked regret- 
ful and abashed, as if she feared that her famil- 
iarity might place her, in the mind of the young 


137 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


lady, on the same low level occupied by her 
worthless son. The wretched woman walked in, 
with her hands under her apron, turning toward 
the teacher her martyr-like eyes, in which shone 
two crystalline tears. She approached her with 
a smile upon her worn countenance, as if a 
friendship of long standing had existed between 
them and she said in a low voice, with an air of 
mystery and an accent of suppressed satisfaction: 

“He is doing better; do you know? he is 
doing a little better of late; he has quieted down 
some. He no longer abuses me. He no longer 
goes to the “Gallina.” Truly, it seems like a 
dream to me, but in the evening he stays at 
home and studies. I thank the good Lord for 
it, day and night.” 

She looked toward the door suspiciously. 
She attributed that change to the school, and she 
came to thank the teacher, and to ask a favor 
gf her. 


WON BY A WOMAN. 

{< Pardon the liberty I take, dear young lady, 
but wouldn’t it be well to take advantage of this 
opportunity, when he seems so well disposed, 
and to put into effect what I spoke to you about 
the last time? Why not try and put some 
religious feeling in him? Then he would resolve 
to do his duty, once for all. He has neglected 
the Holy Sacrament for ten long years now. 
Merciful God, do you understand me, for ten 
long years! And to think that I must give him 
my last cent from time to time to make him say 
a “ Pater” or an “Ave,” so that he does not 
go to sleep in church like a dog; I had an idea, 
too, from the motion of his lips, that he was 
saying quite different things ! Ah, my dear 
young lady, since you have taught him so many 
other nice things, how I wish you would make 
him understand that the salvation of his soul is 
the most important of all ! How, happy I 
would be to know, before I die, that he has found 


39 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


forgiveness in the eyes of the Lord. Why not 
avail ourselves of this opportunity — it may be our 
last, I never knew him to be so good — which 
the good Lord has sent to us ?” 

The school mistress turned her face to one 
side, blushing with pride at the satisfaction these 
few words caused her. She replied that she 
had done all she could, but that she had not 
been able to do very much. 

“ Anyway/’ said the woman, casting an- 
other glance at the door, “one must confess 
that the night school is a great blessing, for it 
has done good to my son; and his change is 
due to the school and nothing else. ,, 

At this point, struck by a new idea, she 
remained absorbed in thought, looking at the 
ground; then she exclaimed, raising her eyes: 
“Unless ” 

Signorina Varetti looked at her closely. 


40 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“ Unless,” proceeded she, “it is due to a 
feeling of sympathy — as — as it was last year 
with the butcher’s daughter.” 

Suddenly, the teacher had a suspicion, but 
it could be seen that the thoughts of the mother 
were a thousand miles from her. 

“Still,” continued the latter, after some 
reflection, “for all my pains, for all my ques- 
tions, I have not found out a thing from him.” 

Then she returned to the subject of religion. 
The school mistress asked her why she did not 
see the priest of her church about the matter. 

She replied excitedly that the little priest, 
almost a midget, was pleasant enough with 
everybody; that he was undoubtedly a good, 
saintly man; but he did not care to mix up with 
such matters. She suspected that he had a cer- 
tain “regard” for her son; of course, by “re- 
gard” she really meant fear; but she used the 


WON BY a WOMAN. 


word out of respect, thus showing her maternal 
love and the pride she still took in her son. It 
was the same with other people: the Chevalier 
Salis, for instance, the proprietor of the iron 
mill; the doctor, who could have given him good 
advice and wholesome admonition — all of these 
entertained a “regard” for her son. They 
would even jest with him, when they met him; 
no one wished to wound his feelings. Finally 
she said: 

“The good Lord will continue to help me, 
since he has commenced.” 

When she left, still thanking the school 
mistress, with a humble and affectionate expres- 
sion of admiration, her bright eyes rested on 
Enrica Varetti for a moment, as if she had 
thought of something else to say; but whatever 
the thought may have been, she did not give it 
utterance. 


142 

































































! 

* 
































WON BY A WOMAN. 


** I will pray for you, my young lady,** 
she murmured at the door, and turning her 
short, bent back, she walked away toward the 
church. 


H3 


XIV 


E IS conquered at last ,’ * said Enrica 
Varetti to herself. No longer had 
she to fear either insult or abuse; 
she could now walk fearlessly 
-through the streets of the village; 
she was free; she was contented; 
she was proud of her great con- 
quest. Armed with such thoughts, 
she did not hesitate for one second 
on the following day to go out 
alone at dusk. 

Just as she was about to leave, a boy came 
in, bringing the keys of Teacher Latti’s room 
and a note, written in pencil, asking Signorina 
Varetti to get a medicine vial, which stood in 
her room, and to bring it to her at the baker’s 



144 


WON BY A WOMAN. 

house in the village, where she had taken refuge; 
for she had been seized by a sudden attack of 
sickness. Enrica put the desired vial in her 
pocket, donned her bonnet and cloak and walked 
away hurriedly through the snow, which was 
falling in great white flakes. She found Miss 
Latti stretched at full length on a sofa, and 
being cared for by the wife and the two daughters 
of the baker. 

“Ah, my dear friend Enrica,” exclaimed 
the patient, holding out her hand languidly, 
“how glad I am to see you once more.” 

Her looks did not at all justify the sadness 
of her greeting. She had been merely afflicted 
with a headache, and having fallen on the 
street, from a false step, she had attributed her 
fall to a rush of blood to the brain. 

After being taken upstairs, she had a quar- 
rel with the doctor — a big, blonde fellow — 
who advised all his patients to take a trip to 


145 


Won by a woman. 

Massawa; 1 he considered the air of that locality 
a panacea for every ill. She had fallen into a 
half hysterical condition after the quarrel. 

“You may go,” she whispered, in a husky 
voice, to her friend, after swallowing her medi- 
cine quickly. “I need you no longer. These 
good people here will take me home later — 
dead or alive ! * * 

When Signorina Varetti, smiling in her 
sleeve, left the sick (?) one, it was almost dark. 
The snow was still falling; the avenue was cov- 
ered, to the depth of ten inches, with long, white 
flakes. She hesitated for a minute, before 
plunging into it; then she pushed ahead reso- 
lutely. The two gas lamps, covered with snow, 
scarcely broke the dense obscurity of the night 
with their two rays of pallid light. The noise 
from the machinery of the two neighboring fac- 
tories was scarcely audible, as if coming from 

i Italian colony in Africa. 


146 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


underground; while the sounds from the anvils 
of the ironworkers, employed near the entrance 
of the avenue, seemed to come from a place far 
distant. 

She had covered a third of the way, when 
she thought she saw a man move from behind a 
tree. She halted, holding her breath in sus- 
pense, then she took courage and moved on. 
Two steps from the tree stood Muroni. 

She was about to utter a cry, but she held it 
back on noticing that the man removed his hat. 

“You again!” she exclaimed indignantly. 
“What do you want? Let me go.” 

The man replied in a hoarse but respectful 
tone of voice: “ There is snow on the ground. 
I will make a pathway for you, if you permit 

^ * yy 

me. 

“I don’t want it,” replied the young lady. 
Go away from here, or I will call for help.” 


147 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“Why?” he asked, in a low voice; “ don’t 
you think that I, too, have a little heart? Surely, 
you can’t find fault with me of late.” 

Without giving her time to reply, he sprang 
five steps in front of her, and walked toward 
the school house, his head lowered, and pushing 
his feet through the snow, in order to open a 
pathway for the young lady. 

Feeling somewhat reassured, Enrica walked 
behind him for a little way, without losing sight 
of him; but suddenly a dread of the man seized 
her, and speeding forward she tried to run away. 
He stopped short just at that second, and she 
brushed against him with her dress. 

Losing all self-control and gasping out a suf- 
focated “Oh!” Muroni turned brusquely and 
grasped the young teacher about the waist with 
both hands, seeking her face with his lips. 

Struggling fiercely, Enrica threw back her 


148 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


head, away from his strong breath, which 
smelled of cheap liquor and bad tobacco. 

“Give me a kiss,” he muttered; “just one 
kiss, and I will let you go.” 

Saying this, he removed his hands from her 
waist, to grasp her by the head, but Enrica, see- 
ing her chance, glided from his arms and ran 
toward the school house with all the speed there 
was in her, shouting: 

“Help! Help! Help!” 

Her voice was so weak that no one could 
have heard her calls for assistance. 

He followed her, breathless, speaking incom- 
prehensible words in a sharp voice. Overcome 
with terror, her mind clouded, dazed, it 
seemed to her that she heard the words: “ Ex- 
cuse me! Excuse me!” Then she heard noth- 
ing more, not even his step. 

She arrived out of breath at the school house, 
and stumbled into the hallway. She met the 


149 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


janitor’s wife with a light in her hand; she let 
herself drop against the wall, pale as death, 
almost swooning. 

“What’s the matter?” asked the frightened 
woman. 

“A thief!” she replied. 

The janitor himself, came running in. “A 
thief? A thief, did you say?” And, getting 
an iron bar, he ran through the courtyard and 
shut the door from the inside. 


XV 



LL THROUGH the follow- 
ing night, the poor teacher was 
terribly feverish and worried. 
She was thinking of the best 
way of denouncing Muroni to 
the police; for she had come to the conclusion that 
such action was necessary. She also thought of 
reporting the matter to Signor Garollo, the prin- 
cipal of the school, and have him either expel 
Muroni, or report him to the authorities. It 
occurred to her, too, that she might betake her- 

151 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


self to the Chevalier Salis, he being the most 
influential personage in the suburb, and ask him 
to provide some means of ridding the school of 
such an undesirable character as the “window- 
jumper. ,, She resolved to take some decided 
step, as she felt that she could no longer stand 
such vile insults and such terrific shocks. The 
mere thought of it made her tremble like an 
aspen leaf. 

When she arose on the morrow, she had 
made up her mind to go directly to the Superin- 
tendent of Schools, after notifying Signor Ga- 
rollo, as his position, and good form, demanded 
that he should be notified. It was Sunday, and 
she planned to go to church first, thence to the 
office of Chevalier Salis. 

Signora Mazzara put in her appearance, just 
as she was finishing her toilet; the Signora was, 
as usual, very much hurried, breathless, talkative; 
a smile upon her lips and a bundle of papers in 


152 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


her hand. She had just seen Signora Baroffi 
concerning an article for a Christmas paper that 
some of the school teachers were desirous of 
publishing, for the benefit of one of their col- 
leagues, the widow of a custom-house officer. She 
could stay but a few minutes; for she must run 
about Turin all day, to organize an amateur 
performance at the Scribe Theater, to raise 
funds for the establishment of an asylum for 
infants at Crocetta; she had to visit the School 
of Horticulture in Garibaldi street, where a 
friend of hers taught forty gardeners how to 
write; she wished to go to the Institute of the 
Good Shepherd, in order to find out what truth 
there was in the rumor, spread by a newspaper, 
that the nuns exorcised the devil every night to 
frighten the bad pupils. When she had said all 
this in a breath, she asked her friend how she 
was progressing with the evening school, and she 
appeared sorry to find her so sad and downcast. 
153 . 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“What is the matter with you? What has 
happened? Why are you so pale? What have 
they done to you?” 

In truth, Enrica Varetti knew that she was 
not the most desirable person to confide in; but 
not having, any better one at hand, she told her 
everything, even the occurrence of the previous 
evening. 

“You have caused him to fall in love with 
you!” exclaimed the Signora, with much vivac- 
ity. “That’s why he doesn’t come to Sunday 
school any more.” 

She remained silent for awhile, as if to 
enjoy to the full all the romance of that adven- 
ture. Then she answered gravely, shaking her 
head: 

“I wouldn’t advise you to do what you 
intended doing. ’ ’ Being asked the reason for this 
disapproval, she answered promptly: 


154 


WON BY A WOMAN. 

“You do not understand the nature of a 
man of this class. Such an action on your part 
would provoke him to vengeance.” 

“But what do you want me to do?” asked 
Enrica Varetti, in utter despair. “What ven- 
geance can he take that is worse than what he 
is now doing? Kill me?” 

“No, he won’t do anything to you,” re- 
sumed the other; “that’s understood; but if he 
don’t revenge himself upon you, he will do so 
on those who punish him; you may be as sure 
of that as if it had already happened. Don’t 
burden your conscience with such a load of 
remorse.” 

“But, according to what you advise, I am 
to swallow every insult and ask for more,” 
replied Signorina Varetti, resentfully. 

Her friend remained silent for a few minutes. 
“But after all,” she went on; “he has not 
even kissed you.” 

155 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Enrica Varetti was not slow in showing her 
indignation and surprise. The Signora quieted 
her somewhat by saying: 

“I understand, the insult still exists, and 
yet you tell me that he has apologized. After 
all, you must bear in mind what sort of a fellow 
he is, or, rather, was. It is already a great 
victory to have inspired in him such sentiments. 
What more can I tell you? If I were in your 
place, I should await further developments. I 
should complete the work of converting him. 
It is, indeed, a strange case.” And, fixing her 
eyes upon her friend, she continued: ‘‘Ah, 
my poor Enrica, you have the face of a little 
princess. Take my advice, and forgive him 
once again; I am satisfied that nothing will 
happen. You don’t know the young men of 
the working class; if one doesn’t hurt their feel- 
ings or humiliate them, one can do almost any- 
thing with them, even with the worst of the lot. 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Murom, you will see, is going to become a 
perfect angel.” 

But Signorina Varetti was still sorely per- 
plexed. 

“Ah! the common people!” exclaimed 
Signora Mazzara, “believe me, we do not 
understand the common people; that is the rea- 
son why we do not love them. If they look 
wicked at times, it is only because they are not 
loved. Well, that’s all I have to say about the 
matter. I’ll be in again to see you soon. I 
am very anxious to learn how the matter will 
end. What have you decided upon doing, any- 



“I don’t know,” replied Enrica Varetti, 
looking out of the window at the chimneys of 
the iron foundries, as if they occupied her mind 
as a part of the problem. 

The Signora made a start to leave, but she 
staid long enough to deliver a lot more of Turin 


157 



WON BY A WOMAN. 


gossip. “ There is going to be a wedding at 
the Sclopsis school. . . The Countess Di Rosa 
has invited me to one of the two magnificent 
balls that she is going to give in honor of her 
daughter. . . In the convent * Visitazione 9 a 
girl attempted to poison herself, because they 
took a love-letter away from her. . . At San 
Filippo, Don Calandra is going to preach during 
Lent.” She did not even cease her chatter at 
the doorstep. . . “ Malon, the famous French 
socialist, will give a lecture to the workingmen 
of Turin; I hope that I can be there. Have 
courage,” she finally called up from the street, 
with a flattering smile, “you dear, little lion- 
tamer.” 


158 


XVI 



FTER hesitating a long 
time, Signorina Varetti con- 
cluded to wait a little longer, 
before taking any step regard- 
ing the reporting of Muroni 
to the authorities. On Mon- 
day evening she returned to 
her class, not a little troubled 
inwardly, but outwardly a. 
tranquil as if nothing had 
happened. Sitting down at her desk, she 
noticed without looking directly at Muroni that 


159 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


he had taken a pose she had never before seen 
him adopt — he was resting his chin on his 
hands, and looking down at the floor. 

A minute afterward she discovered that he 
had been drinking; his hair was disheveled, his 
eyes were swollen and sleepy. Even through 
the dense veil of drowsiness and inebriation, 
Enrica Varetti could discern the return of the 
mean and wicked expression he had formerly 
worn; as if he had made up his mind to again 
worry and torment her, by his disorderly conduct 
in school. However, he did not create any dis- 
turbance that evening; he did not even change his 
posture, when she asked him to read, or ques- 
tioned him about the lessons. 

The next evening, he came to school look- 
ing like himself, the better expression on his face; 
and then she perceived that he was attentive, 
that he watched her, listening with that air of 
meditative admiration which he had shown at 
160 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


their meeting in the avenue. But no longer did 
any sign of ambition or vanity make itself appar- 
ent in either his person or his actions. His face 
and hands were no longer fastidiously clean; he 
read carelessly, got his lessons indifferently; and 
plainly showed that he did not care to be ques- 
tioned, but that he wished to be left alone in 
his corner, that he might watch her silently, like 
a faithful dog. Leaning his back against the 
wall at the right, that he might see her better 
when she turned toward the right section, his 
contemplation became so persistent that it 
attracted the attention of the more observing 
pupils, who would point and nod at him and 
whisper to one another: “Well, it’s a fact; the 
‘window-jumper 9 is in love. Funny, ain’t it?’* 
This time, however, he would have to be 
contented with wishing. It was well to have such 
“nerve,” such a large dose of presumption. 
No one would ever have imagined that such a 
161 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


knave, the author of so many evil deeds, with 
such a criminal record, would have aspired so 
far beyond his reach! And the men would 
have been the first to laugh at the whole thing 
if they had dared to risk his ire; but the boys, 
less prudent and more malicious, did not restrain 
themselves so well. Nevertheless, so great was 
the fear he inspired, that nothing would have 
happened if he had not provoked a quarrel 
himself. 

Muroni, he who was the very first one to 
incite the others to annoy Signorina Varetti, now 
looked upon the other disturbers with threaten- 
ing eyes. He commenced by regarding the 
disorderly ones absently, almost involuntarily at 
first, like a man held in thrall by a fixed idea; 
then, with the manifest purpose of quelling all 
infraction of the rules, he glared at one after the 
other of the evil-doers. 

When they became aware of this, encour- 


162 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


aged by finding themselves in accord, they grew 
still more disorderly ; and to his anger there was 
now added resentment for a direct insult to 
him. The matter did not pass beyond limit, for 
several evenings in succession; then he became 
thoroughly aroused. The boys were the most 
obstinate in their misconduct, and that hurt his 
pride the more; for he had made powerful men 
tremble, by merely shaking his fist ! When 
they, the lads, grew overbold, he began by 
muttering imprecations between his teeth, and 
threatening to thrash them when school was 
over. No one dared answer him to his face, 
but they responded all together, in chorus, like 
the obstinate growl of so many cats or dogs. This 
put him beside himself. The most persistent of 
all was little Maggia, who had just the stuff in 
him for the making of a future Muroni, and was 
already capable of affronting a man. A couplet 
in which maestro, (teacher) and Saltajinestra 
163 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


(window-jumper) rhymed, and so vile that it 
made Enrica Varetti blush deeply, must have 
been his work. 

Now, indeed, did Enrica find herself in a 
painful and difficult predicament; she could by 
no means accept this too open protection of 
Muroni, her pupil of worst repute, nor did she 
know how to bring it to an end. 

But there was something else, still worse. 
This passion that Muroni displayed for her, this 
continued admiration, mute and ardent, spread 
rapidly among the others, by virtue of sympathy, 
growing into a flame of mixed sensuality and 
sentiment, which she had noticed at the begin- 
ning of the first lessons. She saw now that 
even her oldest and most serious pupils regarded 
her with longing eyes; and she could guess that 
they were commenting freely on her figure; now 
and then she caught an expression of jealousy, 
even in the brazen face of little Maggia. It 
164 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


was he, she thought, who had dared to stroke 
her skirts caressingly one evening, when she 
passed between the benches. The only ones 
who remained impassive were Perotti, with his 
honest, paterfamilias face, who always treated 
his teacher with the respect of an old servant, 
the uncle of Maggia, that kind of a brute, who 
studied obstinately, bending over his desk like an 
animal over a manger; and the socialist, Lamagna. 

The latter, while being very careful not to 
show the teacher any obsequious reverence, since 
he considered her in the same light as he would 
have a companion in his workshop, was exceed- 
ingly provoked, nevertheless, by the bad con- 
duct of his fellow-pupils, and was not slow to 
show his disgust at their display of vulgarity and 
grossness; because, according to his theory, the 
workingmen should teach the gentlefolk good 
manners, instead of disgusting them, and making 
them blush with shame for their shocking ways. 


XVII 



VENING after evening, 
the disorder increased to 
such an extent that Signorina 
Varetti resolved to report the 
exact condition of affairs to Principal 
Garollo. So, one night, ten minutes 
after the lesson was over, when the pupils, on 
their way homeward, were filling the air with 
their discordant cries and calls, Enrica Varetti 
knocked at the door of Signor Garollo’s apart- 
ment, her heart heavy with sorrow and anger. 
* 4 Come in! ” cried two thick voices. 

She found husband and wife — those two 
small, rubicund figures, looking like brother and 
sister — sitting at a table which was fairly littered 


166 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


with books and papers. The small parlor was 
austere in its plain and democratic furnishings, 
its only ornaments being portraits of Mazzini, 
Soffi, and Alberto Mario, which hung on one 
side of the room ; on the other side, hung a large 
written chart, divided by colors into several 
parts, showing the salaries of the elementary 
teachers of the whole civilized world. The 
light was thrown upon the table by a small 
kitchen lamp, which stood upon an empty 
pasteboard box. “Ah, is it you?” said the 
principal, proceeding without further delay to 
launch out on his favorite topic. He was com- 
piling a table of statistics, to show why the time 
spent by teachers in the other provinces should 
be taken into account when pensions were given. 
“And that is only justice!” he shouted at the 
top of his voice. 

Signorina Varetti interrupted him to mention 
the object of her visit. She had been as patient 
167 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


as she could, up to now, in order not to disturb 
him; but she could stand it no longer with such 
a class. Nearly all the pupils showed her every 
manner of disrespect; they insulted her openly; 
they turned the school room into a market place. 
It was absolutely necessary that he put in his 
appearance on the following evening, admonish 
them all, and warn the incorrigible ones to mend 
their conduct. 

He rubbed his ear, as if bored by the 
request. “I will be there/ * he replied; “but 
I have told you before, that one must show de- 
termination when handling such a class/’ 

“ But what kind of determination is a young 
lady to show, toward forty men?” inquired 
Enrica. 

“I used to keep them in order,” cried 
Signora Garollo, her voice sounding like notes 
from a tombstone. 


168 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“1 haven’t your qualities,” retorted Signo- 
rina Varetti, vexed. 

Mrs. Garollo looked at her sharply. 

“ I fail to make them mind me,” continued 
the young teacher, “because I do not know how 
to manage them; they do not heed my re- 
proaches. But I am doing the best I can ! 
They will drive me to despair yet ! It is a mar- 
tyrdom that I can stand no longer.” 

“That’s all very well,” cried the principal, 
losing his patience; “one must deal with these 
people in a peculiar manner; one must know 
how to go about the thing. It is not necessary 
to be so polite — I mean aristocratic — no, that is 
not the right word; I can’t recall it; what do I 
mean ? so autocratic. One must not let them 
see that one has a — a horror of them.” 

The poor teacher felt hurt again by these 
words. “Who has told you that I try to 
play the aristocrat?” she asked, resentfully. 

169 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“ Who has told you that I act as if I had a dis- 
like, a horror of them? ” 

“ These people wish to be loved!” chimed 
in Mrs. Garollo, sententiously. 

“And I do love them!” exclaimed the 
young lady, with a vigorous outburst of affection. 
“What should make you think differently?” 

“Well,” said Garollo in a conciliatory way; 
“we shall do it this way: for the time being, I 
shall give the janitor instructions to be present 
during class hours. His presence will be suffi- 
cient to keep the boys in order. And you, on 
your part, will report to me every evening, the 
names of the disobedient ones. If, however, 
anything serious occurs, you will send the 
janitor for me, and I shall only have to put in 
an appearance and then — Meanwhile, don’t 
lose your courage.” 

Enrica Varetti, sorely vexed, was about to 
reply: “You don’t lose your courage, per- 


170 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


haps ! ’ ’ but she swallowed her words before 
they escaped her lips. She bowed perfunctorily 
and left. 

As she went out of the room, she overheard 
the voice of the principal saying, in subdued 
tones: “ She doesn’t know how to manage these 
people; she can’t expect to get along with 
them.” 

Her feminine curiosity made her linger to 
hear more; but Garollo was already talking 
about the school teachers of Brazil who, not to 
mention a house and garden, were receiving a 
certain percentage above their salaries, on the 
promotion of every pupil to a higher grade. 


XVIII 



ESIGNED to her hard 
lot, Signorina Varetti 
returned to teach her 
class on the following 
evening. It had been snowing 
heavily for some hours. With their 
~ hats and coats covered with snow, 
the pupils entered very noisily, stamping their 
feet on the floor and shaking their clothes. 

The janitor had stopped the teacher in the 
hallway, asking permission to tell her something 
confidentially. Principal Garollo had ordered 
him to stay in the school room during class 
hours; but it seemed to him that it would be 


172 


V 



















































WON BY A WOMAN. 


better policy to stay outside, his ear at the door, 
and to enter suddenly on hearing the noise of 
the unruly; in this way he would be able to 
catch the guilty ones red-handed. Saying this, 
he winked, to better emphasize his cunning. 

“ Another coward!” thought Signorina 
Varetti, bidding him do as he chose, but looking 
at him scornfully. He tried to hide his satisfac 
tion, and placed himself at the door in a daring 
attitude. 

Over twelve pupils were away that evening, 
and the teacher asked the cause of their absence. 
She learned that an old farmer, who had just 
returned from America, an odd, whimsical fel- 
low, had invited them and half of the inhab- 
itants of the suburb to listen to his adventures. 
It would have been a relief for her had the boys 
been absent, instead of the older pupils. 

She had noticed from the first, that Muroni 
looked even more morose than usual. He must 


173 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


have had some words with the lads before he 
came in. 

She discovered, too, from the expression on 
the faces of her most audacious pupils, that 
there was a mutual agreement among them to 
stand up for each other, if any of them were 
attacked by Muroni, whom they had decided 
to provoke. In fact, no sooner had she turned 
her face toward the blackboard than she heard 
a chorus of laughter and impertinent remarks, 
worse than ever, that caused her a sharp pang 
of pain. Then there followed hoarse cries and 
ugly grimaces with vile words, passing in a loud 
whisper from bench to bench. 

Suddenly, the noise growing still louder, the 
janitor put his head through the half open door 
and said: “Be silent; this isn’t right;” but he 
disappeared with a rapidity so comical that half 
the class laughed uproariously. 


174 


WON BY A WOMAN. 

A few minutes later, while the teacher was 
still writing, a small paper arrow fell at her feet; 
then came a chestnut. But such affronts did not 
hurt her feelings anymore; to her sense of wound- 
ed dignity a profound sadness and a certain new 
strength of mind had succeeded, which enabled 
her to stand at her post, with all the fortitude 
and intrepidity of a sister of charity at the death- 
bed of one who is dying from a repulsive 
disease; as if she were expiating her sins and 
had merited her punishment. She wished to 
resist, to suffer until the end, to see how far they 
would carry their malignity; and if, finally, 
her saint-like conduct would not make them 
ashamed. 

Suddenly, she heard an O-o-o-o-h! strong 
and prolonged by many voices, like a cry of 
scorn and defiance; and turning around she 
beheld Muroni standing upright on the bench, 
his eyes darting fire, his teeth clenched, shaking 


175 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


his fist at the class. She opened her mouth to 
call for the janitor. 

At that moment the door opened, and an 
unknown person stepped into the room. 

A deep silence followed. 

It was the inspector of the Turin schools, 
whom Signorina Varetti had never seen before. 
It was an old subterfuge of his, to visit the 
suburban schools during the most stormy even- 
ings of winter, when he was least expected. 
His carriage had reached the school house with- 
out being heard, owing to the heavy snow on 
the ground. He had entered the court silently, 
motioning to the janitor not to announce his 
coming; and, hanging his coat to a hook on the 
wall, he had stopped at the door a little while 
to listen to the pandemonium; then he had 
made this dramatic entrance. 

His tall, soldierly figure, clad in a tight-fit- 
ting suit of black, cut in military style, his 
176 


WON BY a WOMAN. 


white mustache and goatee, inspired sympathy 
and commanded respect. The bulge in his 
back pocket told that he carried a revolver. 

He was indignant. 

“What kind of a place is this?” he asked, 
turning to the class, after introducing himself. 
“Is this the way you respect your school and 
your teacher ? Are you honest workingmen, or 
what are you ? I could not have believed that 
men would create such a disturbance ! I am 
surprised, if they did it, that they do not blush 
with shame; that they allow the school of the 
people to be insulted in such a manner.” 
Then, turning to the school mistress, with a 
sharp accent, and without lowering his voice: 
“And you, my young lady, how can you tol- 
erate such disgraceful conduct ? How do you 
keep discipline ? If not for your own sake, 
then for the dignity of your office, you should 

177 


1 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


not tolerate such disrespect and such behavior. 
Tell me, is it this way every evening ?” 

The poor Signorina Varetti, standing in front 
of her judge, grew pale; she moved her lips to 
exculpate herself; but her mind was confused, 
troubled — the words would not come; instead, 
there came a flood of tears that she could not 
restrain; she drew out her handkerchief and 
cried like a child. 

“Compose yourself,’ ’ said the inspector, in 
a softer voice; “ this will not help you to regain 
your lost authority.” 

Then he addressed the school again, in 
vigorous language, which all listened to with 
that fixed and stupid attention which the com- 
mon people lend to actors in a melodrama; save 
the socialist Lamagno, however who was looking 
out of the window, with pretended attention, at 
a tree covered with snow, reflecting the light 
from the school lamps. 


178 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


After finishing his reprimand, the inspector 
nodded to the teacher, who, with red eyes and 
a quavering voice, had taken up the lesson from 
where they left olf; while he watched the pupils 
with a severe eye. All at once he inquired: 
“Who are your usual disturbers?’ * 

She knew them all, but out of her kindness 
of heart, not from fear, she replied, for she 
thought it ignoble to expose the refractory ones 
to punishment, in a sweet, apparently sincere 
voice: “I do not know, sir. The disorder to- 
night was caused by a mere accident.” 

While she spoke thus, the inspector’s eyes 
rested on Muroni, attracted by the contrast be- 
tween the natural baseness of his features and the 
sentiment depicted upon them at that moment, 
and which appeared inspired by the teacher’s 
answer, the gentle, noble meaning of which he 
had comprehended. 


179 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


“Very well, young lady,” he answered, 

“I will see you after school is over;” and giving J 
a warning glance to the pupils, he passed out of 
the room. 

The scholars, restrained by the fear of 
another sudden appearance of that personage, 
remained in perfect quiet until the class was dis- 
missed; and then left the room in unusually good 
order, only making a suppressed noise. 

But while she watched the exit of the last 
ones from the room, before going upstahs to 
meet the inspector, she heard Murom’ s hoarse, 
angry voice, crying down the avenue: “You 
cowards!” and other voices, deadened by the 
snow, hurled back their insults from the distance. 


180 


XIX 


FTER that evening it 
seemed as if Muroni’s pas- 
sion for the school mistress 
and his hatred for his ene- 
mies increased at an equal 
pace, and that he was 
meditating upon some 
means for giving vent to 
the latter, since it was impossible to satisfy the 
former. 

His passion was manifested in a manner 
peculiar to himself. Enrica Varetti never saw 
an expression of love or benevolence depicted 
on his physiognomy: his looks became more and 
more somber and his glances grew more sinister 
and fixed, as if the sentiments with which she 
181 



WON BY A WOMAN. 


inspired him were gradually giving way to a 
longing for crime. A great tumult of ideas and 
sentiments raged in his small brain and in his 
heart, exasperated by hatred for the world. His 
fastidiousness for his own appearance increased; 
his disregard for his equals became ireful; he 
nursed a mad ambition to become educated, in- 
structed, well-clad, rich by some miracle, some 
sudden stroke of fortune, some daring adventure. 
When in her presence, he was like a monster, 
guided in turn by pious impulses and violent 
concupiscence, and by affectionate, ferocious and 
lascivious fancies; by sudden revolutions of the 
mind, in which he would now have insulted 
and struck her like a fallen woman, and the next 
minute, would have humiliated himself, even to 
kissing the very soles of her shoes. At one 
time he looked like a stupefied man; at another, 
he looked like a man who is angry at, and 
ashamed of his own thoughts. 


182 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


But no matter what passed through his mind, 
his outward respect for Signorina Varetti remained 
unchanged. It even appeared that he made this 
respect more visible, in order that he might give 
rise to the suspicion of some mysterious sympa- 
thy existing between him and the teacher; and 
this would have been, at least, some satisfaction 
to his excessive vanity. And, in truth, this 
suspicion did arise in the minds of the pupils, who 
watched them both more closely. This con- 
stant vigilance made it necessary for Enrica 
Varetti to avoid looking at him, in order that 
she might make the other scholars understand 
she was not in accord with her jealous, self- 
constituted protector; but many believed that it 
was a mere ruse on her part to conceal an ardent 
leaning toward the man. Moreover, Muroni 
was a fine-looking fellow, noted for his con- 
quests among the women of his own station in 
life; and his companions were little able to 
183 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


understand that his notoriety, which was his 
chief attraction among such women, was the 
very thing Signorina Varetti found so repellent; 
still less were they able to comprehend the dis- 
tance created, between the couple, by birth and 
education. She was soon made cognizant of 
such suspicions by the sudden and ostentatious 
manner in which they turned from her to him, 
every time she questioned him about his lessons ; 
also by their affected coughs, their sighs, the 
words half-restrained, the smiles with which 
even her more serious pupils regarded her. 

These actions disturbed the young teacher to 
such an extent that she had to make strenuous 
efforts at self-control before calling on any of 
them to read aloud; and she had to calm both 
mind and nerves, to restrain the blushes that 
would have mounted to her cheeks had she ad- 
dressed a question to the class unexpectedly. 
Thus she stood in constant dread lest she should 


1S4 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


not succeed in concealing her distress; for then, 
without a doubt, her pupils would take such a 
display of emotion for a revelation of her love, 
rather than the effect of modesty and shame at 
their suspicions. Fortunately for her, one even- 
ing when she was most apprehensive, Muroni 
did not put in his appearance; and she did not 
see him at school for a number of days. 

One morning, she noticed him, from her 
window, rambling about the meadow on the 
other side of the avenue, his head hanging low, 
his hands in his pockets, as if he were absorbed 
in thought. A few hours afterward, she saw 
him there again, seated upon a heap of stones, 
with his elbows on his knees, and his chin rest- 
ing on his clenched fists; he was looking toward 
the school house, but she could not see the 
expression on his face. 

That very evening at dusk, while Enrica 
Varetti was passing in front of the “Gallina,” she 

185 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


heard his hoarse, drunken voice amid the angry 
exclamations of the morra 2 players. The next 
morning she learned from the janitor that there 
had been a desperate quarrel between the 
“window-jumper” and certain other Turin 
outcasts; they had turned the whole inn upside 
down, and the inn-keeper himself had been 
obliged to seek refuge in flight. One could 
still see on the ground, pieces of clothing and 
snatches of hair, scattered over the snow. It 
was rumored, too, that Muroni had been obliged 
to take to his bed on account of a knife-thrust. 

Three days later Enrica Varetti, on her way 
to school, noticed the young man seated on the 
curbstone, his hat on the back of his head, his 
hair disheveled, his hands in his pockets, motion- 
less, pale; his chin was stained by the black 
juice of a cigar stump which drooped from his 

Z A game of chance, played with the fingers and thumb. 


1 86 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


lips, and his coat and vest were left unbuttoned, 
as if it were the middle of summer. Without 
being seen, the teacher cast a rapid glance at 
him, and detected on his face the marks of three 
days’ and three nights’ quarrels, idleness and 
dissipation — an evidence of brutalization that 
oppressed her heart, and made her disgusted at 
the mere thought of meeting him, face to face. 
Unable to turn back, however, she made up 
her mind to move straight on without turning 
her head; but when she noticed that he had seen 
her, and that he was arising slowly, not daring 
to approach, she was conquered by a sense of 
pity, and came almost to a standstill. 

The young man was drunk, he could 
scarcely raise his hand to his hat, which at first 
he could not find; finally, uncovering, without 
raising his head, he looked at her long and fix- 
edly, accompanying his look with a strange, 
stupid smile both tender and horrible, which at 
187 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


the same time disgusted and softened Enrica, 
leaving her deeply upset. 

On the evening of the following day, Muroni 
returned to school quite sober and clean; seeing 
Signorina Varetti again and hearing her voice 
once more, he acted as if all those tender senti- 
ments, which had been dead for three days, 
had revived suddenly with greater force than 
ever, and he resumed his usual attitude of im- 
movable and somber contemplation, while the 
boys were again given their longed-for oppor- 
tunity to joke and laugh. Eut this time it looked 
as if he had changed his plans entirely. He did 
not threaten any more; he turned only to look, 
now at one and now at another, as if he wanted 
to fix in his memory their names and the insults 
they had heaped upon him; and, in these mo- 
ments, his cold, inscrutable face was more sinis- 
ter, and inspired more fear than when he uttered 
threats. 


1 88 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


It went on like this for three or four even- 
ings. Then, again, the “ window-jumper * ' 
absented himself two or three times. During 
that week Enrica Varetti heard of another 
fight which had taken place at night, in an inn 
at the end of the village, between Muroni and 
certain peasants of a neighboring suburb; the 
next morning traces of blood had been found on 
the outside stairway leading to the chapel. One 
night she recognized Muroni’ s voice among a 
number of voices of people singing in the fields 
behind the school house. The next morning 
on arising, she was surprised to see him seated 
in the gutter of the avenue, under her window, 
his back resting against a tree and his chin on his 
chest, sleeping in the mud and slush. Then he 
returned to school one evening, drunk and 
sleepy, and remained quiet for two hours, his 
eyes shining with a stupid and childish admir- 
ation for her new dress of a gray color. He 
189 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


aroused himself toward the end of the lesson, 
angry at a boy who had thrown the skin of a 
mouse on the platform, at the feet of the teacher. 
As they passed from the room and reached the 
street, she heard a great tumult; and the next 
morning she was informed that Muroni had 
kicked and cuffed the guilty boy. Then he 
disappeared for two more days, and somebody 
told her that he had been arrested. 

But this was not true. The “ window- 
jumper’ ’ was not seen for another day and 
night, and somebody said that he had gone to 
Turin. Signorina Varetti learned the truth from 
his mother, who had come to her in tears, and 
in a state of febrile agitation, with a face that 
was the very image of fright itself. 

“Ah, dear teacher,” she exclaimed, as she 
entered the room; “where is my son? I don’t 
see him any more. What can have happened 
to him? How can I endure this life any longer? 


190 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Merciful God ! I thought that son of mine had 
reformed.’ ’ And she. slowly tugged at a strand 
of gray hair, as if distracted, saying that her son 
conducted himself as if he were going crazy, 
that it was impossible to manage him, that he 
had threatened her with a hammer. 

“Tell me, Signorina Varetti,” she inquired, 
with trembling voice; “has anything taken place 
between him and his school mates? Has any- 
thing happened? Have they a grudge against 
him?” 

The old woman had come quietly every 
evening, at school closing time, and, hiding her- 
self behind the trees of the avenue, had over- 
heard, on various occasions, threats of vengeance 
against her son. 

The young lady answered, through com- 
passion for her, that she knew nothing of that 
nature, and she tried to reassure the poor crea- 
ture; but, being distracted by a certain expres- 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


sion which she saw in the eyes of the old 
woman — a scrutinizing -and supplicating look, 
which she had never seen before — she could 
not find the right words. 

Suddenly the old mother exclaimed: “Ah, 
my dear young lady, my heart tells me that 
some great misfortune is going to take place! 
O, Lord! if he were to be brought home some 
night with a cut from a knife — It chills my 
blood, it makes me lose my reason to think 
of it!” 

In the great torment of pain caused by the 
mere supposition, she found courage enough to 
reveal her inmost thought. 

“I have often suspected it,” she said in a 
low voice, taking the young teacher’s hand, 
without daring to look her in the face; “I have 
often thought that it was on account of this kind 
of sympathy; nor did I deceive myself ** 


192 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


All of a sudden, joining her hands together, 
with an accent of ardent supplication, “Oh, 
my dear young lady,” she murmured, looking 
her in the eyes; “if only, in the kindness of your 
heart, you would say a good word to him, just 
one good word.” 

And she interrupted herself again, as if 
struck dumb by the expression on the face of 
Signorina Varetti. 

“What do you mean?” asked the teacher, 
blushing deeply. “ What are you talking about? 
What kind of a part are you playing now ?” 

The old woman sobbed and burst into tears. 
“Ah, I know, it is foolish — but do forgive me 
— a poor mother who doesn’t know what she is 
saying;” and she grasped Enrica’s hand with 
such a dolorous and affectionate humility that the 
young teacher felt touched to the heart. Releas- 
ing her right hand, she placed it on the woman’s 


193 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


head caressingly, causing the kerchief to drop 
from it to her neck, and said: “Take heart, 
poor woman; you will see that nothing is going 
to happen. Besides, I will speak to him.” 

“May God bless you,” replied the unfor- 
tunate creature, raising her face. “May God 
bless you. Perhaps one word will prevent his 
poor mother dying from despair; he has made 
me suffer so much that he would not take the 
risk; he would have too much compassion to 
make my last days so miserable! May God 
save his soul!” As she was leaving the room 
she was again seized by the same terrible pre- 
sentiment. 

“I am so afraid that they will murder 
him!” she exclaimed, starting to cry afresh. 
“Something foretells me that they are going to 
murder him. May the good Lord hold him 
in His care ! ’ ’ 


194 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


She had already shut the door, when she 
returned to kiss the young lady’s hand with deep 
emotion. Then she departed, hiding her face 
behind her closed fingers. 


195 


XX 



NRICA Varetti, out of pity for 
this poor old woman, decided to 
strengthen herself to keep her 
promise and give some loving 
admonition to her wicked son, 
to persuade him not to be so 
cruel to his mother, even if that was all she could 
succeed in inducing him to do. But she did not 
even know when or where to speak to him; for 
it did not occur to her to call him to one side, 
owing to the disposition which the other scholars 
had evinced when he came in or left the class- 
room. This uncertainty lasted through the 
196 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


whole day. That evening the “ window- 
jumper’ * came to school. 

His face was more livid than ever, and the 
alteration in his appearance showed that he had 
not yet recovered from the effects of a prolonged 
spree. He was welcomed by a continued mur- 
mur, which he silenced by stopping in the 
middle of the room, and looking at the benches 
in his sinister way. Then he walked over to 
his seat, and resumed his usual posture, but with 
such a hard, stubborn-looking and surly counten- 
ance that it seemed as if he had resolved to do 
something desperate that very evening. 

Pity for his mother, the fear that he was 
about entering some atrocious course of action, 
and the hope of preventing such a catastrophe, 
induced Enrica to look at him with what she 
thought was boldness. After having thought it 
over a little, her heart beating rapidly, she chose 
a minute when the whole class appeared busy 


197 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


and oblivious of their teacher, and turned her 
gaze towards Muroni, at a time when he could 
not help meeting it, and she fixed upon him for 
some seconds a glance expressive of deep kind- 
ness, indulgence and supplication — a thing she 
had never been able to do before. 

For a minute, Muroni remained motionless, 
in the attitude of one who hears for the first time 
the voice of an invisible being, who, he believes, 
is pronouncing his name. Then he looked 
around, and turned again to gaze at the teacher, 
whose eyes were no longer fixed upon him; and 
he pressed his hand against his forehead. And 
from that moment it was plain that there awoke 
within the man a new agitation, a new train of 
thought. 

The boys soon commenced to be disorderly 
again, and to scorn the injunctions of their 
teacher, in order to offend him. For a little 
while, the “ window -jumper ” paid no atten- 
198 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


tion to it; but all of a sudden, having heard 
young Maggia mutter a vile word about Sig- 
norina Varetti — which she did not, however, 
hear — he turned with the swiftness of a tiger 
and shouted: “ Maggia, I’ll cut your throat!” 
A number of voices replied: “One moment! 
Don’t be in a hurry. We’ll see about that!” 
And some one from the other side of the room 
bellowed: “I am here!” 

It was Maggia’s uncle, who had arisen, his 
deformed body quivering with rage, his face all 
aflame. Although he had no affection for the 
boy who annoyed him constantly with his 
wicked ways, when it came to a question of blood- 
spilling, he arose to defend his relative, without 
even knowing the reason of the threat, without 
reflecting or stopping to inquire, simply inter- 
fering because he had heard his name mentioned. 

“I will stab you, too!” cried Muroni. 


199 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


The teacher, with surprising energy, made 
him a sign to stop. “ You fellows know who I 
am,” cried the young man to the whole class, 
and he sat down again, his eyes burning like 
live coals. 

The school mistress, regaining command of 
her voice, enjoined silence on her excited pupils. 
They all became quiet again, not out of respect 
for her, but on account of a presentiment that 
something serious was about to occur; this was 
too surely foreshadowed by the resolute looks of 
all, and by the entrance, into the lists, of 
Maggia’s uncle, who was known for his strength 
and for his furious, bull-like temper. 

Signorina Varetti remained in suspense until 
the end of the lesson, assigning tasks in a voice 
thin as a thread. They departed in silence. 

The young teacher ran into the hallway, 
seeking the janitor everywhere in vain; then she 


200 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


went to the street door, all in a tremble, expect- 
ing a bloodthirsty quarrel. 

Indeed, she heard voices cry : * * Make room ! 
Make room!” — to clear space for the combat- 
ants. Then Muroni was heard: “Come on, I 
say!” Then the older Maggia shouted: “Here 
I am!” The poor girl had to lean against the 
wall, so as not to fall in a faint. 

But instead of the sounds of blows and yells 
that she expected, she heard an unexpected 
whisper, like a cry of warning carried from 
mouth to mouth, and the stampeding of feet in 
the crowd, which melted away silendy. 

In the silence she heard the voice of Muroni, 
crying from afar: “Until to-morrow.” 

Many voices repeated: “ Until to-morrow.” 
And others, nearer and sterner, added in tones 
of admonition: “ Go on home, boys ! Goon!” 

It was a squad of gendarmes clearing the 
road. 


201 


XXI 



FnRICA VARETTI had 
never experienced such 
fear since her childhood, 
when she had witnessed 
the bloody quarrel be- 
tween the miners, and the shock 
{r J, she had experienced then, had 

J- almost killed her. She had felt the 
«* 

breath of crime pass through the air. During 
the whole night she was troubled with cold 
chills, followed by a burning fever, which 
202 


WON BY A WOMAN. 

added to her oppressing thoughts the most 
frightful images that had ever troubled her dur- 
ing the course of her life. She awoke utterly 
tired out, weighed down by dark presentiments, 
seeking diligently, and without finding it, any 
means of preventing the dread deed about to be 
committed. 

She drew a breath of consolation on behold- 
ing Signora Mazzara at the threshold. The latter 
was so enthusiastic over her own plans that she 
forgot to inquire about the evening class and the 
“window-jumper** — the real reasons of her 
having come thither, despite the intense cold 
and the fog. She wanted Signora Baroffi to 
write an article on the bad food given to chil- 
dren at the “Asylums,** where beans had be- 
come an intolerable abuse. She also wanted to 
institute a reform in the methods of teaching 
singing in the elementary schools, where, under 
the illusion that children should learn music. 


*°3 


Won by a woman. 


they taught them to sing difficult choruses with- 
out inspiration and without life, sounding like 
funeral songs and putting both singers and list- 
eners to sleep. She wanted to promote a sub- 
scription for a testimonial to a blind teacher of 
the “Institute d’Azeglio” — a beautiful young 
woman, an angel of grace and kindness. Finally, 
when she had unburdened herself, she questioned 
her young friend and listened attentively. Sig- 
norina Varetti told her minutely all that had 
happened and all that she feared. 

But, alas! whether through Enrica’s fault, 
or through the peculiar nature of the subject, the 
conversation ended abruptly and unfortunately. 

After the Signora had heard everything, she 
proffered a bit of advice, which the young 
teacher could not help believing had been pre- 
pared beforehand; it popped out so quickly. 

“My dear,” said she, in the tones of an 
elder sister; “my advice is this: the matter 


204 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


must end at any cost, and it depends upon you 
to bring it to a close. You must not allow a 
crime to be committed on your account. There 
is only one way to stop it. You must take ad- 
vantage of your ‘ascendency’ over that man 
Muroni. Call him to one side, and resolutely 
command him to desist from any thought of 
revenge, to sacrifice his vanity, if need be, and 
to submit resignedly for your sake. In this w’ay, 
nothing will happen and he will alter his ways. 
If you put forth sufficient authority he will obey. 
There is no other issue out of this awful tangle. 
You must do this for the sake of your conscience. 
That is my honest opinion.” 

“But what makes you think that he will 
obey me?” asked Enrica Varetti, not yet grasp- 
ing the Signora’s idea. 

Signora Mazzara hesitated a moment. Then 
she replied frankly: “You are, after all, the 
only one who can make him obey.” 


205 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


"Ah! my dear friend,’* exclaimed the 
young teacher, rising to her feet, with a haughty 
smile, "in order to avoid a disaster, I will make 
almost any sacrifice, but I will not degrade 
myself.” 

The Signora felt deeply hurt, and her in- 
born love for the proletariat made the blood 
rush to her brow, as she realized, in a flash, that 
Signorina Varetti would have given the same 
reply if her own, the Signora’s, brothers had 
been in question. Yet, restraining her anger, 
she replied with a forced smile: "Such are 
social prejudices.” 

‘'Social prejudices!” retorted the other ex- 
citedly. "No, indeed! but prejudices of dignity, 
of honor ! I should blush at the sight of my 
father’s picture, were I to forget such prej- 
udices.” 

"Oh, well,” exclaimed the Signoria, re- 
pressing a movement of anger, "for that matter. 


206 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


men of all classes are alike, save that there is a 
shade of difference in the color of their sins and 
vices; the men of the upper ten drink better 
wine, go with outcast women who wear better 
clothes, and fight with swords instead of knives.’ * 

Enrica Varetti checked an outburst of indig- 
nation, but answered with a fair show of honest 
pride: 

“ You are not yourself when you speak thus. 
My father fought a duel once — would you on 
that account place him in the same category with 
rowdies who fight with knives in low saloons? 
Such a comparison would be simply infamous.” 

“ Infamous ! ” retorted the Signora, her voice 
suffocated by anger. ** Infamous! well, I can just 
tell you that I boast of my plebeian birth; that I 
am proud of my family, such as it is; that I de- 
spise the airs of the aristocrats, and that I don’t 
want aristocrats for my friends.” 


207 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Having said this, she passed tragically from 
the room, with tears in her eyes. Enrica ran 
after her, calling her by name, begging her to 
come back. The older teacher turned around 
and answered angrily: “I will come back at 
some other time; it wouldn’t be advisable to- 
day,” and she disappeared. 

The young lady sank in a chair, thoroughly 
discouraged. Even her friend had abandoned 
her, on a day in which she had so much need 
of distraction and comfort. 

Not wishing to remain alone, she went to 
seek the company of Signora Baroffi. She 
found her at table; her hair in a tangle, her 
round face as wrinkled as that of an old actress, 
bending over a dozen copy-books, in which she 
was transcribing the phrases and sentences of 
literary people, of journalists and of lecturers, 
which, after resting in her storehouse for a 
month, became her own property; and she 


208 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


claimed them for her own so religiously that, if 
she heard them read elsewhere, she believed 
them stolen from her. Signorina Varetti in- 
formed her of the trials and tribulations she was 
undergoing. 

‘‘My dear child, ” replied her friend, with 
a heavy, emphatic voice; “you are too stubborn 
to admit that I am right. Speak to them, 
touch their hearts. Read the stirring passages 
of Thouar or of Lambruschini to them, and you 
will see them change, right before your eyes. 
Ah! if it were I.” But, notwithstanding her 
friend’s sadness. Signora Baroffi did not talk at 
length on this subject. She was very excited 
over the description of an impressive and digni- 
fied London meeting, where, in the main hall of 
the University, in the presence of the chancellor, 
the whole faculty, and a great crowd of students 
and guests, a young woman had been honored 
with the degree of doctor of sciences. This 
209 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


had always been the supreme height of Signora 
Baroffi’s ambition. 

t€ Imagine, my dear,” she exclaimed, with 
enthusiasm; 4 * this beautiful young lady with the 
red and gold insignia of a doctor of sciences, in 
that place, before all those people, in the midst 
of all that applause, and the whole city of Lon- 
don talking about it ! I would be willing to die 
an hour after it, if I were to enjoy such glory ! * ’ 

Enrica Varetti left her friend to her dreams, 
and sadder than when she called upon her, 
betook herself to Signorina Latti’s apartment. 
She found her busily writing, in front of a kind 
of shrine, filled with medicine vials and drug 
store boxes; tears were falling on her manuscript. 
She did not wish to be mysterious and had soon 
unfolded her tale of woe. For the last two 
days she had felt undeniable symptoms of ap- 
proaching death, and had finally decided to 
write her last will and testament. Enrica 


210 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Varetti smiled for the first time that day. But 
if the testament was a subject of mild hilarity, the 
testatrix was truly worried and frightened; and 
her young friend felt that such company would 
benefit her but little. So she returned to her 
own room and began counting the time, quarter 
of an hour after quarter of an hour, by the 
strokes of the church tower clock. 

At four o’clock she aroused herself and 
walked over to Principal Garollo’s rooms, to lay 
the state of affairs before him, and to find out if 
he did not think it advisable to warn the 
gendarmes that they should be in the vicinity of 
the school house during the evening session. 

Signor Garollo was all alone, sipping a glass 
of wine, and a little excited, not so much from 
the wine as from some good financial news about 
the educational world. After listening to her, 
somewhat impatiently, he declared himself quite 
opposed to her opinion. 

211 


WON BY a WOMAN. 


“If we,” said he, “make a habit of calling 
the gendarmes to our aid, the pupils will start 
a perfect riot the very first time they are not 
there. And then it would injure the prestige 
of the school. One must not make an open 
display of mistrusting the common people.” 
However, the principal did not belittle the grav- 
ity of the case. After five minutes of uncertainty, 
he took an heroic resolution: 4 ‘This evening,” 
spoke he, placing his index finger on his chest, 
“this evening I will put in my appearance.” 

The school mistress went away, somewhat 
comforted. 


212 


XXII 



T THE approach of even- 
ing, her anxiety, her sadness 
and fear arose again. She 
was unable to keep away 
from the window, from 
whence she looked down 
on the deserted avenue, as 
if inquiring of it what would 
happen that night under its trees; and the heavy 
fog which covered everything, save the trees in 
the vicinity of the school house, that could be 
seen but dimly, seemed to augur evil. The ring- 
ing of the bells announced the hour; the strident 
noises from the factory machinery; the distant 
hammering upon the blacksmith’s anvils; the red 


213 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


lantern of the “Gallina,” that twinkled in the 
distance like a blood-shot eye, all these things 
impressed her gloomily, almost threateningly, 
recalling to her mind the dreadful wall-posters 
advertising sensational plays, which had made 
such a profound impression on her mind in the 
days of her childhood. 

She felt a desire to pray. She donned a 
hood only, and hastened across the lane to the 
church; there she knelt down beside a pillar. 
The church was dark, a single lamp in front of 
the main altar, threw a dim light. Scattered 
here and there, a few women were kneeling. 
One could hear the heavy step of the sacristan 
at the lower end. She prayed, remembering 
her mother, invoking the memory of her father 
to inspire her with courage; and it appeared to 
her that the prayer was granted. She thought 
for a little while of those mighty models of 
bravery and devotion found in religious and 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


secular history, and of whom she had so often 
spoken to her little pupils, with the ardor of one 
who feels capable of imitation; and she felt 
ashamed to think that the fortitude she would 
require was so small, compared with the heroism 
their lives had shown. After all, she had but to 
keep her post with dignity, she need fear no 
harm to her person; and, moreover, was not 
fear as base, as cowardly in a teacher as it was 
in a soldier? “ Courage !” she said resolutely, 
arising to her feet; fortified now, almost im- 
patient to face the battle, she started to leave the 
church. 

Near the door, while in the act of lifting the 
heavy drapery, which made a sort of ante-cham- 
ber between the wall and the door, she beheld 
the figure of a man. She recognized Muroni, 
and she trembled at the thought of meeting him 
alone in this dark, unfrequented part of the 
church. But she recovered her self-possession. 


215 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


realizing that he would not dare to attempt any 
act of violence there, in the sacred edifice. 
She moved forward. 

“ Teacher,’ ’ said he, sadly, but firmly; 
“pray for me.” 

She wanted to respond, but her voice failed. 

At that moment she felt her hand seized 
respectfully, as if by one who wishes merely to 
offer a friendly salutation. In the effort she 
made to release it, her fingers contracted and 
pressed his hand; but her mind was still clear 
enough to realize that the next movement of his 
was not premeditated, but had been brought 
about by a sort of boiling over of the young 
man’s blood, excited by the pressure of her 
hand. 

For, in the next second, she felt herself 
grasped by the waist, then by the arms, then 
the shoulders, and she felt the warm breath from 


216 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Murom’s mouth on her cheek. She resisted 
him with all her might, pushing against his chest 
with her hands; she twisted like a contortionist; 
she struggled; she tried to pull away from him. 
She threw herself on her knees, and heard his 
coarse voice whispering: “ A kiss! a kiss! in the 
name of heaven, a kiss ! ’ ’ 

The desperate struggle lasted some minutes, 
the air heavy with the smell of incense, quiver- 
ing with the breath of prayer and choked sobs. 
The sound of an approaching step re-echoed 
through the church. He let her go and dashed 
away. 

She had scarcely reached the lane, fixing 
her hood with convulsive hands, when she heard 
the voice of Muroni again. (t Forgive me!” 
he cried; “I have been a villain, I know it, 
but I will never do it again, I swear it by my 
soul!” 


217 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


She did not even turn around, but ran to- 
ward the school house, ascended to her room, 
and falling on her knees in front of the portrait 
of her father, she broke forth into violent sobs. 


218 


XXIII 



VAGUE presen- 
timent that this 
was to be their 
last encounter, that there 
was in the very air itself, something 
even more grave than this last 
reckless attack, restrained her once 
more from taking any resolute step. 
Besides, when the moment for pre- 
senting herself at school arrived, 
she found herself armed with renewed courage, 
with more courage even than she had ever pos- 
sessed before; perhaps it was the result of that 


219 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


foreboding which told her that an end, no mat- 
ter what it might be, must come to her troubles. 

When she entered the corridor, just as the 
pupils were making their way into the school 
house, the janitor stopped her, and said, with 
an uncomfortable-looking countenance: “Be 
careful. Miss, for — that is, I have heard certain 
remarks; it will be a bad evening.’ * 

She walked into the room: the full class was 
there, not a member absent, despite the cold 
weather and the dense fog which covered the 
country like a heavy smoke. She smelled, 
stronger than ever, the odor of vile liquor, 
cheap, stale tobacco, and the grease from ma- 
chinery. When she ascended the platform 
and turned towards the pupils, an unusual 
silence followed, and all looked at her with a 
peculiar expression of curiosity, and, in fact, 
the agitation she had undergone that day, the 
tears she had shed but a few hours ago, the 


220 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


lassitude that had oppressed her for over a week, 
had beautified and refined her girlish, almost 
childish, face, which her black woolen dress 
made still purer and sweeter by contrast, in 
her tall, slender form. It was the languid grace 
of an invalid, which rendered her more beauti- 
ful than she had ever appeared to her class 
before. Turning a rapid glance about the room 
she saw that all her tormentors, including 
Muroni, were there. 

She had scarcely seated herself when the 
door opened and Principal Garollo “presented 
himself.’ ’ The teacher, who had despaired of 
his keeping his promise, breathed easier. 

By the manner in which he entered the 
room, shaking his big head, darting fiery glances 
at the benches, one would have supposed that he 
intended to admonish the pupils most terribly. 
Alighting on the platform, it seemed for a few 
minutes as if he were stifled with indignation and 


221 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


with the weight of the solemn words he was 
going to utter. Then he said with the most 
affable familiarity: “What is this I hear, my 
children, that there is ill-feeling among you? 
This displeases me — it ought not to be. Upon 
my word! if the workingmen don’t agree 
among themselves, who in the world should? 
And it seems that you haven’t been behaving 
very well. I can’t understand that. In my 
own class, your friends are as good as in a 
church.” (At that very moment one could 
hear the uproar in his room upstairs.) “You 
ought to behave still better out of respect for this 
young lady who is teaching you. Now be 
good after this and don’t trouble us any more — 
unless you want to have trouble yourselves. 
And, remember,” he concluded with an expres- 
sive look; “that it is only by means of concord 
and education that the laboring classes can 
achieve their destiny.” 


222 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


After hurling this phrase, which no one 
understood, he withdrew from the room in haste. 
Some of the boys burst out laughing; the men 
remained quiet and indifferent, while the teacher, 
somewhat disillusionized, resumed the lesson. 

To her surprise, the class remained unusually 
quiet for a while, and at first she rejoiced at it. 
But, after a few minutes, this unusual good behav- 
ior began to worry her. The expectation of 
something serious coming was plainly written on 
many countenances; they were evidently wait- 
ing for something unavoidable that had been 
pre-arranged among a number of pupils. Muroni, 
more haggard than ever, exchanged scrutinizing 
glances with the others. Even little Maggia’s 
uncle, always so persistently attentive to his 
lessons, seemed absent-minded and uneasy. Alas, 
Enrica’s presentiments had not deceived her! 

What troubled her most was the brazen face 
of little Maggia, on which an air of nonchalance 


223 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


mingled with the bold grin of a conscienceless, 
heartless wretch, who feels that he is being aid- 
ed and encouraged to commit an infamous deed, 
and who enjoys in advance his evil, treacherous 
notoriety. For the first time, he avoided her 
gaze, lowering his diabolical eyes whenever she 
looked at him, hiding his malevolent smile behind 
his dirty hand, with which he teased the down 
on his upper lip. It flashed through Signorina 
Varetti’s mind that the boys had selected him 
to insult her, in order to provoke the “ window- 
jumper.” None the less, a greater part of the 
session was passed without disturbance. The 
ringleaders had arranged, perhaps, to strike the 
blow at the close of the evening, so that the 
inevitable conflict might take place directly after 
the provocation. Nothing noteworthy did oc- 
cur, however, save a brief literary discussion 
between the teacher and Lamagno, a propos 
of a word that he had used in his composition. 


224 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


He had written: “There entered at this minute 
another ‘exhausted.’ ” Enrica Varetti, ignorant 
of socialistic terms, held that the participial form 
used there as a substantive, to express the idea 
of “a salaried workingman overtasked by his 
master,’ ’ was not at all intelligible. She objected 
to the explanation that Lamagno gave her on 
purely grammatical grounds; he accepted her 
correction with a smile that was both respectful 
and condescending. 

A quarter of an hour before school closing 
time, she noticed that various inciting signs were 
made to little Maggia; fearful of the result 
of these signals, and with the intention of pre- 
venting what was meant to follow them, she 
walked between the benches courageously, and 
advanced to the boy’s seat with a kindly de- 
meanor, as if she wished to look at his copy- 
book. She thought that such a courteous act 
might, perchance, divert him from his purpose. 


225 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


She did succeed, in fact, in preventing him 
from executing one base purpose, the throwing 
of some vile thing on her desk. But something 
still worse happened. 

While she stood, bending over the bench, 
her head almost touching his, he put his arm 
around her waist. 

A loud roar of laughter came from the 
benches. 

She released herself, with a slight cry. 
Muroni was already standing on his bench, 
about to throw himself on the wretch. 

" Muroni !” she cried, with all her might, 
"keep your seat! ” 

He sat down, gnawing his fist. She ordered 
little Maggia to leave the school. He gathered 
his books together and went out, his shoulders 
shaking as with subdued laughter, but he turned 
at the door to make a face at Muroni, who made 
a sign with his hand: "Wait!’* 


226 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Signorina Varetti returned to her place, the 
blood almost deserting her veins, and trembling 
violently, not so much on account of the insult 
as for the terrible results she apprehended. 

A profound silence followed, that terrified 
her still more. Every face grew serious. Mu- 
rom’ s features fairly blazed with hatred and with 
so powerful a resolve written on them, that 
it was quite evident that nothing on earth could 
move him from it. The rest of the lesson 
passed like a frightful dream. Enrica could hear 
in the street the defiant whistle of little Maggia, 
who had evidently remained in the vicinity of 
the school house. She wanted to send the jani- 
tor for the gendarmes, she wanted to summon 
the principal, she wanted to order Muroni to 
stay in the class after the others; but she could 
do none of these things; her organic disease, 
this terrible weakness of the spine, that robbed 
her, at times, of all will power, of movement. 


227 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


even of voice, seized her now from head to 
foot, paralyzed her, stupefied her, thrilled her 
with horror and agony. 

The ringing of the bell, which foretold the 
close of the session, had the effect upon her of a 
cyclone announcing the arrival of death. She 
fell back in her chair and rested her head on 
her hand. 

Muroni was the first one to leave, or rather, 
to disappear, crossing the room like a flash of 
lightning. The others withdrew in great dis- 
order; some to defend little Maggia, others to 
watch the fight, the more prudent ones to ab- 
sent themselves from the scene of the affray. 
Among the latter she saw Perotti and his son, 
gliding away like shadows, and she gathered 
strength and courage enough to call : * ‘ Perotti, ’ 9 
and to beg him to interfere in the fight; but he 
ran away without replying, pulling his frightened 
child after him. 


228 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Just at that moment, she heard sharp cries 
from the avenue, and soon thereafter the janitor, 
pale and trembling, entered the room, perhaps 
to seek refuge. 

“What has happened?” she asked. 

“The ‘window-jumper’ has smashed little 
Maggia’s face,” he replied, running away to 
avoid being sent outside. 

Meanwhile there could be heard on the 
avenue a confusion of shouts and hurried steps. 
Enrica left the room, leaning against the wall, 
and she walked up to her own suite, where she 
could hear the frightened voices of Signora Baroffi 
and Signorina Latti, from the neighboring apart- 
ments. The shouts and steps from the outside 
sounded farther and farther away. Taking 
courage, she ran to open the window, and 
looked out. The heavy fog hid everything. 
She saw on the ground, in front of the school 
house, by the light of the lamp, some hats and 


229 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


a club. Further down there was a dense, mys- 
terious darkness, from whence arose the muffled 
groans — which seemed to come now from anear, 
now from afar — of people chasing one another. 
“Here he is! There he goes! Down on him! 
Scoundrel! Go ahead! Stab him!” Three or 
four shadows passed before the school and dis- 
appeared behind the church. Enrica heard 
several sharp, stunning blows, like the fall of a 
club on a skull; then piercing, lamenting, 
wild groans, furious as the roar of a wounded 
beast: “Murderers!” Then breathless voices: 
“Run! Get away!” and she saw other shad- 
ows pass through the fog, under her window; a 
moment afterward she watched still other shad- 
ows, in whom she thought she recognized 
gendarmes. Then everything vanished from 
sight, and a dense silence followed. She with- 
drew from the window, without stopping to 
close it, and, pressing her hand on her heart. 


230 






























I 































































































































WON BY A WOMAN. 


stumbled over to her bed and dropped on it, 
exhausted. 

A few minutes later, she heard Signora 
Baroffi making her way into the room. The 
older lady was excited and in a dramatic man- 
ner, she addressed a number of questions, to 
which Enrica did not reply. Then her friend 
helped her to arise, and they walked to the other 
window and, opening it, looked down on the 
court, where a few sounds could be heard. 
They could distinguish the voice of Mr. 
Garollo exhorting the janitor to get information 
on the quarrel, assuring him that all was now 
over. But the janitor refused, replying: “That 
may all be true enough, but they can pick me 
up for a witness.” Then the principal grew 
indignant and called the weak, cowardly fellow 
all sorts of names. 

They drew back from the window. On 
the avenue, through the fog, one could see a 


231 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


coming and going of lights, the murmuring of 
many people. Suddenly, the sobs and moans of a 
heart-broken woman burst forth. Enrica Varetti 
recognized the voice, and sank in the arms of 
her friend who carried her to the bed. 

Once more silence reigned supreme. 

Signora Baroffi soon resumed her questioning: 

“Have they wounded or killed anybody? 
Did anything happen in the class ? How did the 
quarrel commence ? What was the matter, 
anyway ?’ ’ 

“I know nothing,” replied Enrica, shiver- 
ing. “I don’t know; I can’t speak; I can’t 
say anything.” 

Her friend returned to the window and 
exclaimed: “Good Lord! they have sent for 
the priest!” 

The poor young teacher began to cry. 

At that moment, some one knocked at the 
door. It was the principal and his wife; they 
232 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


had come to seek and to give information. 
Signora Baroffi cautioned them to be quiet, 
pointing to her friend on the bed. But despite 
her warning, the principal said in his deep tone of 
voice: “ Many are hurt; the ‘window-jumper * 
is seriously wounded! ” 

Hearing Enrica Varetti weep, they left the 
room to visit Signorina Latti, who had chosen 
this occasion to betake herself to bed, saying 
that her last hour on earth had come. 

Enrica and her friend had remained silent for 
a little while, when three vigorous blows, 
struck at the street entrance, aroused them. 
They heard the voice of the janitor asking who 
was there, and refusing to open the door before 
he found out the name of the visitor. 

“Quick!” cried the impatient voice of a 
woman, “I have a message from the priest!” 

Enrica Varetti instinctively felt that the 
message was for her, and she guessed its import. 
233 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Urged by one of those sudden impulses which 
arise only in good and noble souls at the call or 
duty, her weakness passed away at once, like- 
wise her fear and disgust; and she cried impetu- 
ously: “I am going!” and grasping her hood, 
she ran down the stairs; her friend following 
with difficulty. 

It was just what she had suspected. This 
woman had been sent by the priest and Muroni’s 
mother to entreat Signorina Varetti to go to the 
bedside of the dying man. 

“I am ready,” said the young lady with 
perfect simplicity, and leaving the janitor as- 
tounded at her courage, without even answering 
Signora Baroffi, who was recommending the use 
of fine words, during this momentous interview, 
she rushed away with the old woman. 


234 


XXIV 


NRICA walked so quickly 
that the woman, who held 
a lantern in her hand, 
could hardly keep up with 
her. They moved on 
without speaking. In the fog, they passed several 
groups of curious people, who were walking up 
and down the avenue, looking at the ground, 
trying to discover traces of blood, while they 
were commenting on the quarrel. There was 
a great crowd in front of the * ‘ Gallina, ’’and, turn- 
ing to the right, they beheld a number of people 
standing at the open doorway. In front of the 



235 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


butcher shop, they met two gendarmes who were 
dragging after them a handcuffed man, followed 
by many excited people shouting at the top of 
their voices. Signorina Varetti turned away. 
The fog prevented her from recognizing the man 
under arrest. 

* ‘Ah, they caught another one ! The murder- 
ers, the cowards, ten against one!” exclaimed 
the woman. 

Murom’ s home was next to the cigar store. 
Enrica recognized several persons in the crowd 
that stood in front of it. They at once opened 
up a way for her to reach the door. As she 
moved through them to the house, she heard a 
bit of conversation that made her shudder. 
“The point of the knife,” said one, “has 
touched the marrow of his spine.” “Then 
there is nothing more to be done,” said another. 

On the stairway, she could hear, from the 
first floor, the sobbing of an old woman. 


236 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


Muroni’s mother, and she felt her courage for- 
saking her; but she mastered herself and moved 
on. She saw an open door, the light of a low- 
burning lamp, and she entered straightway. 

The old mother, frantic with grief, and 
twisting her hands convulsively, ran to meet her. 

“He is dying! Oh do try and convert him! 
He his thrown away the crucifix! He is dying 
like a heathen! Save his soul, for the love of 
Christ, for the love of your dead parents; save 
his soul, if he can recognize you yet!” • 

The room was small, dingy, low, barely 
furnished. Stretched on a trundle bed lay the 
wounded man, pale, haggard; the bony finger of 
death clutching his face; his hair matted; his 
shirt stained with blood; struggling madly; 
swearing; gnashing his teeth; pushing back the 
priest who held out the crucifix to him; beating 
the air with his fists; panting; stricken by a 
paralysis that almost prevented his breathing. 


237 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


In one corner of the room stood the big 
blonde doctor, calmly washing his hands in a 
basin. The room was in disorder, covered with 
soiled clothes and bloody blankets. The little 
priest, with an air of resignation, aweary of his 
many attempts to make Muroni kiss the crucifix, 
was wiping from that sacred emblem the dust, 
which had fallen on it, when the dying man 
dashed it against the wall with an angry fling of 
his hand. 

The young teacher approached the bed boldly. 
On seeing her, the dying man became quiet 
at once, fastening his eyes upon her — those 
eyes already dim, as if veiled by a thin, glassy 
film. He lay gazing at her, with an expression 
of profound amazement. 

His mother stood before the bed sobbing: 
“My child, look up! It is the teacher! Don’t 
you recognize her?” 


238 






WON BY A WOMAN. 


The priest, availing himself of an opportune 
moment, held the crucifix over Muroni’s face; 
but he pushed it away again, angrily, not mov- 
ing his gaze from Enrica. 

Suddenly a smile illumined his features, and 
breathing with difficulty, stretching out his 
trembling hands, he murmured some confused 
words, in a choking voice. “ Good God!” 
exclaimed the mother, clasping her hands, “he 
has said * Good God! y ’ ’ 

But he had not said it. Enrica alone had 
understood his words; they were the same as 
she had heard him say before, but in such a 
different voice: “ Give me a kiss.” 

Moved by an infinite tenderness for this 
criminal who had given his life for her, she bent 
over the bed and kissed him, grasping one of 
his hands in her left, laying her right on his 
forehead. 


239 


WON BY A WOMAN. 


When she raised her head, a change had come 
over him. His countenance was now radiant 
with an expression of peace and gratitude. 
Slowly, without taking his hand away or ceas- 
ing to look at her, he reached out his other hand 
toward the priest, and taking the crucifix, car- 
ried it to his lips, kissed it and pressed it to his 
bosom. 

The old mother uttered a cry of intense 
gratitude, fell upon her knees, and buried her 
head in Enrica’s skirts. 

But the dying man was still holding the 
young girl’s hand in his, and keeping his eyes 
fixed upon her. And thus he breathed his last. 

The End. 


240 













* 



















































































i 


















* 




